


The Steward and the King

by julifolo



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, Fellowship of the Ring, Gen, Gondor, Politics, War of the Ring, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 62,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julifolo/pseuds/julifolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Boromir didn't receive the dream-summons and so stayed in Minas Tirith and Faramir went north instead? PG warning: this is a hard tale, but not a dark one. At crucial times, characters in LotR react instead of act. For example, when the Fellowship splits and the return of the king. Using the branch point of Boromir's dream I was able to examine both of these important choices. <br/><br/>This commentary AU is tersely written. It is primarily a bookverse story. Because I make large jumps when my timeline matches the original closely, this is intended for readers well familiar with the Ring War trilogy. <span>Comments and typo catches are welcome.</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolog, The Council of Elrond

**Summary:** What if Boromir didn't receive the dream-summons and so stayed in Minas Tirith and Faramir went north instead? Rated PG for grim battle stuff in later chapters. Boromir, Faramir, Denethor, Aragorn, Thorongil, the Steward's Oath, politics of Gondor.  
  
**Author's note:** This is a commentary AU. We're told that Faramir dreamed the prophecy several times and Boromir only once, which leads to the question: Those who first sent the dream to Faramir clearly intended the younger brother to seek the meaning. What if he had?  
  
Minor note: some things happen the same or differently that are not directly related to the exchange of brothers: travel times and battle dates will be close to as happens in the original, tweaked as convenient, and when, for example, I had a choice to follow canon rigidly or thematically regarding Aragorn I chose the later, so our first sight of Aragorn would be in Strider clothes. This is a bookverse AU -- except for part of "The Road South" where I have them walk part of the time in sunlight, which is filmverse.  
  
This is a Ring War story, but I write tersely and make many jumps in the timeline when I haven't introduced changes, such as started at the Council of Elrond. My intended audience is readers well familiar with the Ring War trilogy. Because of the nature of this "what-if", in my first chapter I'm quoting and paraphrasing extensively from "The Council of Elrond", then intermittently (and possibly unconsciously) for the rest of the story. Standard disclaimers: these aren't my characters, I'm just borrowing them for a while. For various help  & comments, many thanks Anglachel, AfterEver, Azalais, Dee, Ellen, Nath, Shadow975, and Steve. I didn't always follow your suggestions, but they all helped.  
  
Julie Watkins - julifolo@illinois.edu  
  
********  
  
  
**Prolog**  
  
  
Boromir stood on the ramparts of the Citadel, looking down on the outer circles of Minas Tirith, the White City of Gondor. Scattered stalls were occupied in the market, few children ran there, and the women walking their household duties wore somber colors. A handful of farmers worked in the Pelennor. Companies of armsmen patrolled or drilled. Further north a mist was rising from Anduin, clouding the horizon.  
  
"Why do you look north?" Denethor's voice said from behind him. "Our enemy is east."  
  
"Faramir has been too long gone, father. I wonder where he is."  
  
"He should be here," the Steward answered impatiently. "Fool's errand."  
  
Boromir kept his gaze as it was to hide how his jaw set. He had heard this judgement too many times. It was no fool's errand when a prophecy promised help Gondor so desperately needed.  
  
"We shall fight this battle without him, and small loss," Denethor continued. "Come down now; we have reports coming from Ithilien."  
  
Reluctantly and deeply troubled, Boromir followed his father inside. _Do you really mean that, father? You are angered, still, at our disobedience._ Threat of war had sent his brother northward. Attack would soon come.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Faramir scanned the hall, and his breath caught in sudden recognition of a childhood memory. This _was_ the Hall of Fire, the Hall of Tales, though Mithrandir had not named its home as Imladris. Here the Eldar gathered to tell stories of the Blessed Realm and to sing songs of Valinor. Long ago he pleaded with his secret teacher to tell him of elves. He had thought the answering tale had been a description from ages past. He paused again to drink in the wonder. Bright fires were burning on either side, between carven pillars. The figures that walked there were fair faced and graceful. Golden firelight played on their hair and garments, reflecting in their bright, ageless eyes.  
  
Among them he saw someone, not an elf, who he recognized, and Faramir smiled. The wizard was speaking with another who must have been a man, to judge from his travel worn clothes, yet his bearing seemed almost elvish and Faramir saw that both of them were at home in this fair place. As he watched, the man took his leave, and passed out of the room through a door near to where Faramir stood. As he walked by he felt his dream echo, and his eyes turned to follow him. It took him a moment to remember his original intention.  
  
"Greetings, Mithrandir," he said when he approached. "Your words did not give this house justice."  
  
"Well met, Faramir," Gandalf answered, but he was troubled. "Curiosity did not bring you here from Minas Tirith."  
  
Faramir's face turned serious as well. "No. I was sent here by a dream. Lord Elrond said I should tell it to the Council tomorrow." He was surprised Mithrandir only nodded and didn't ask questions. "If you had come to visit the city archives this year instead of last, I would have come to you to ask." _It would displease Father that you were on the other side of my journey._ Mithrandir was having a silence, Faramir decided. He did that, Faramir had long ago decided, when he was reluctant to give council, but wanted to see what a person would do. He picked another question to ask. "Who was the man speaking to you? I do not think that I know him, but it seems to me that I should."  
  
"He is Aragorn. You will meet him tomorrow."  
  
********  
  
  
  
**Chapter One: The Council of Elrond**  
  
  
Gandalf motioned Aragorn to him as he moved to take his seat. "Take note of the man from the South," he whispered. "He has noticed you." Aragorn nodded.  
  
It was the morning of the Council. Many were the paths and reasons that brought the several counselors to Elrond's house: Gandalf, the wizard; the man, Aragorn; two hobbits: Frodo who brought a ring of power, and his uncle Bilbo, who had found that ring in the roots of the Misty Mountains, nearly eighty years before; two elves from the east and west: Legolas, with a message from Mirkwood, and Galdor on errand from the Grey Havens; the dwarves Gloin and his son Gimli from east of the mountains, who had come to ask a private question but were invited to discuss matters far wider. They assembled on the porch with Elrond and other elves of his household.  
  
When Faramir entered he took a chair close by Aragorn, the strange man he had seen the night before. Their eyes met briefly, but Aragorn said no word.  
  
  
All listened as the various travelers, under the direction of Elrond, spoke their news -- of strange events east and west and south. Then Elrond recounted the history of the making of the One Ring, the ring Frodo had brought to Imladris, and of the rise of the Dark Lord Sauron and how Gil-galad and Elendil formed the Last Alliance of elves and men to fight against him.  
  
Faramir stood when it was his turn. He spoke of the condition of Gondor, of the raids and assaults that menaced her borders and depopulated her lands. He told of many great houses in Minas Tirith that now stood empty, for the faint of heart had moved south and westward, out of the shadow of Mordor. "The Stewards still serve in the City and hold the Nameless One at bay, protecting the lands beyond. But it seems to us soon there must come a great war that we may not withstand, and we are troubled."  
  
Finally, Faramir told of his dream. "On the eve of a sudden assault a prophecy came to me, and afterwards it came oft again. In the dream a voice from the west cried,  


  
_'Seek for the sword that was broken,' "_   


  
Aragorn's widened and his gaze became a stare. Faramir did not notice the reaction, but continued,  


  
_" 'In Imladris it dwells._   
_There shall be counsels taken_   
_Stronger than Morgul-spells._   
_There shall be shown a token_   
_That Doom is near at hand,_   
_For Isildur's Bane shall waken,_   
_And the Halfling forth shall stand.'_   


These words, to me, seemed a sign and a calling. I understood little, nor did Denethor, my father. He said Imladris was the name of a hidden dale, where dwelt Elrond. I wished to heed the dream and go seek this place; but my father was loath to see me go, for the way was long and the roads unknown, and there was battle on our borders. Finally I convinced Boromir, my brother, and he obtained me leave to go.

"I know not for what I have come here, nor how you may help. I hope to find hope for my people, and counsel for the meaning of these words." He bowed deeply to Elrond and returned to his seat.  
  
"Here in Imladris more shall be made clear to you," said Aragorn, speaking for the first time. He stood and cast a sword upon the table that stood before Elrond. The blade was in two pieces. "Here is the Sword that was Broken!"  
  
"This is Aragorn son of Arathorn," Elrond said, "and these are the shards of Narsil, Elendil's sword that broke beneath him when he fell."  
  
Faramir repeated the name softly as he looked at the broken blade. Elrond continued, "Aragorn is descended through many fathers from Isildur Elendil's son."  
  
"Then the ring belongs to you, and not to me at all!" cried Frodo in amazement.  
  
"It does not belong to either of us," said Aragorn, "but it has been ordained that you should hold it for a while."  
  
At Gandalf's asking, Frodo reluctantly took out the ring, and Faramir understood the fearsomeness of it. But he was also troubled that the sword he sought was the King's sword. "The time of the Dark Lord's coming is to be the time of the return of the king?" He spoke as if to himself and out of turn, but all on the porch heard.  
  
Aragorn turned his gaze on him; he seemed surprised. Others looked as well.  
  
Faramir nodded an apology to Elrond and continued. As his words could not be unsaid, they must be explained. "This battle comes more swiftly than I was prepared to discover. In my heart is a great foreboding. It battles the hope called forth by the naming of Elendil." Now he was saying too much. He forced himself to stop speaking his thoughts, but they continued as he looked from one face to the next, looking longest on Elrond and avoiding Aragorn. _Anarion, the son of Elendil, was first king of Gondor, but his line had ended and so it was that the Stewards came into power. But it was the southern line that had died. The kingdoms had long since faded from Arnor. I had not looked for a king to come from here. There was a claim, long ago, by Arvedui that was refused, perhaps wrongly ... but our records say his sons were killed in battle. Was there a younger son who survived? Arvedui's rule ended, death in battle. The Witch King would have tried to kill that surviving son, had he known he existed._  
  
_The King._ Faramir had found the meaning of his dream: he was come through a strange land to find his King, that he might come to Gondor and save her in her desperate hour. But would this man be welcomed?  
  
_Yet to avoid plain truth is worse than ignorance._ At length he met Aragorn's eyes and spoke firmly. "Ring or no, my Lord, I fear my father will not accept your claim. How can we defeat Sauron if we do not stand united?"  
  
"The return of the king may come," Aragorn said solemnly, "but Sauron first must be defeated. We will be united in that. I do not intend to use the ring."  
  
Faramir almost stood in his surprise. "What weapon can we use, then?" he asked, desperate for the safety of his city. "What army? Should we not call this a Gift, that this great weapon has come to us on the eve of our great need?"  
  
"Say rather it is a sign of doom," Elrond said bitterly. "This weapon cannot be used. The weak could not command it, and any of the Free Peoples strong enough to use it would be corrupted by the ring's evil."  
  
  
And so, having heard all reports, the Council debated. The ring could not be hidden or sent to the West, so it must be destroyed. But Faramir again asked why the ring could not be used, though he knew few were pleased to hear the question.  
  
"You speak of a time of legends, unknown to me. I have lived my life honorably under the Shadow, battling it. We have lived these many generations, with terror on our borders and have remained true. If we are to fail -- and we are nigh to failure! -- it will be our strength that fails, not our hearts. In this terror we have been forged, strong and faithful. Do not abandon us!"  
  
"Faithful?" Elrond asked, anger hovering behind the courteous voice. "Yet your city dwindles. The generations of men are to me the swift passing of the seasons. _I was there_ when Isildur claimed the Ring. I know what it can do even to the faithful. What would you? Would you pretend to master this evil and perhaps die of age deluded that you had kept the darkness controlled, yet condemn your children? The nine kings whom Sauron gifted with his rings achieved only fleeting 'glory' and no contentment for their handful of years, now they are eternal slaves. For the gain of one golden harvest, would a farmer poison his land? That would be the result of your good intentions."  
  
Faramir could make no answer to the Eldar lord's certainty, and lowered his eyes in shame.  
  
Looking at each in turn, Elrond made his conclusion. "Only in the fires of Orodruin can the ring be destroyed. We must send it there."  
  
  
So the Council decided, and Frodo took the quest, and Sam, who would not be parted from him. In due course, seven other companions were chosen: Gandalf who had discovered the truth that Bilbo's ring was the One Ring, and so Doom had come at this time, not earlier or later. Aragorn and Faramir also, for Faramir's dream had summoned Aragorn to return to the White City, and their path would be with Frodo's for many miles. Legolas for the elves and Gimli for dwarves, and Merry and Pippin for friendship that would not be denied.  
  
== end chapter ==  
  
**Author's note:** Reiterating, the poem from the dream is, of course, Tolkien, plus many phrases and sentences around that.


	2. The Road South

  
  


The many days of walking began. The company set out in darkness and continued by night for five days until far enough from Rivendell, and then they walked carefully during the bright or hazy daylight of deepening winter. Most of the talk as they walked was telling stories of different lands, of friends left behind. In the evenings as they rested more serious questions would be raised.   
  
Ten days from Rivendell, they were approaching the ancient land of Hollin. The day's clouds were being blown away at evening. Faramir sat with Aragorn, and he spoke of Rohan. He had described at Rivendell how he paused three days with Theoden, in council bringing letters from Denethor. Sensitive news which -- through Wormtongue -- might have gone to Saruman, and perhaps now was on the way to Sauron.  
  
Aragorn shared Faramir's concern, but there was an oddness to how the younger man spoke. "You have silences, Son of Denethor. Is there something you fear?" Faramir remained reluctant, still feeling unsure. He had become friends with the others of the Fellowship, and always had been friendly with Mithrandir. But most of the time he had been in Imladiris Aragorn had been away with the scouts. "If you see a danger, we should speak of it," Aragorn prompted in a gentle voice.  
  
Faramir decided this was a friendly question, and spoke his heart. "I do have a fear. I fear for my lady." There was a flush in his voice. "She lives in the Golden Hall. Her name is Eowyn, sister-daughter to King Theoden, and she has my heart. Saruman's treachery is hard news. They are in great danger."  
  
"Our path is taking us back to whom you worry for."   
  
"You must think me mad, to declare I know my heart and hers," Faramir spoke in a rush. "I was with her so short a time, and it was only when she bade me 'farewell' when we were out of sight of others that I told her my feelings. I saw her pain, wished her strength. Oh, she has strength, indeed, that she could keep herself free and unyielding when others would have surrendered."  
  
"Many are the tales that describe such sudden truths."  
  
"Thank you," he replied, relieved. "I promised to return and help her set matters right. I only kissed her once, on our parting ... and then she kissed me." Aragorn's response was a soft chuckle that was not at all teasing.  
  
There was a thoughtful silence. Faramir considered the merriment with which his brother, Boromir, would likely answer his confession, especially if he told it in such a shy manner. Aragorn's sympathy seemed something more than politeness from a stranger. So Faramir hazarded a guess. "And you, Aragorn, do you have a lady?"  
  
"Yes," Aragorn said at length, looking upwards. The word had been spoken with the barest voice. He did not explain, but let the silence lengthen.  
  
Faramir looked also at the bright stars, thinking back. He had not named her. Did that mean he knew her? But in Imladris he had seen no women but elves. His breath caught. "You -- " he began. He held back the words. It was too dire to say.  
  
But Aragorn kept his silence, melancholy at his separation and the dangers to come.   
  
Faramir knew enough to solve the riddle, then. That meant only one possibility. He had seen them speaking in the hall. "Arwen?"  
  
"Yes." Aragorn seemed pleased Faramir had solved the riddle, his voice friendly and less of a whisper. "Our intentions are well known among my people and hers, but it is not spoken of. There are ... obstacles."  
  
-*-  
  
  
The next day the sun shone bright, and the company was soon walking. Legolas was at the head of the line, choosing the path. Aragorn walked at the end with the pony, Bill, and Faramir was beside him.  
  
In the mid-morning, mind full of the prior evening's talk, Faramir again spoke of his worry for Rohan. "Wormtongue has become strong, and Saruman's evil is close. How are you so sure you can break the spell?"  
  
"Theoden knows me and will hear," Aragorn smiled as if pleased of the memory. "The Mark well remembers Thorongil."  
  
On the second step forward Faramir stumbled. Aragorn caught his elbow, began to speak his name, but Faramir pulled away and after a look that was both angry and frightened he sprang forward, walking double time up the column of walkers to second place next to Gandalf. Legolas glanced back to see if a message was being sent forward then continued as he was. At the end of the line Aragorn also continued as he had been, but he kept his eyes mostly on the younger man, hoping his mistake was not irreparable. They had shared deep secrets the night before and his heart told him they should trust each other totally, but that did not yet mean he could be careless with his words. Mouth set, he paced.  
  
Faramir's footsteps were less secure. He was trained as a leader of warriors to keep his mind ordered, alert and ready, set on the task before him lest his life or the lives he had in his care be jeopardized by fear or panic. Unfortunately, it was a bright day, the mountains beautiful, the dangers that had sent him on this task far removed from him. There was no task he could take up in distraction, not tending a fire nor mending travel torn clothing. There was only walking ever on. And his mind whirled.  
  
He walked beside Gandalf, silent except for the sound of his breathing.  
  
"What?" the wizard, at last, asked quietly.  
  
The question unleashed a torrent of words. "I have walked into legend and thought well of myself to not be called the child that I am. I have entered Imladris and spoken with its lord: Elrond, brother of Elros, who began Numenor, forefather of he who founded Gondor. I have seen the sword of Elendil -- _Elendil!_ \-- reforged and even touched it. That should have been the largest wonder. But this -- "  
  
Gandalf continued to wait.  
  
Faramir returned the look then turned forward carefully watching the path that he not misstep. His breathing was uneven, yet the ground was not so rough here as to cause exertion. "He is Thorongil," he said at last.  
  
Gandalf pondered that long. "You have been talking of heavy matters."  
  
Faramir still watched the path for several paces. "I have been worried ... and so spoke my mind."  
  
"There is much in the free lands to be worried about."  
  
"And then he, perhaps incautiously ... there are matters I should have remembered that I did not yet think on!" He paced on, searching his memory and searching for words. "My father Denethor has a strong sword-arm, though his hair has lost its color." When he spoke the name his face softened briefly in loving memory. "Were some foolish man or creature to raise a blade against him, he could still defend himself and those he would protect. But what Aragorn, the halflings, described of the wraith attacks on Amon Sur, at the Ford -- all these days of walking and sleeping in the open air -- my father could not hope to equal."  
  
He swallowed, coming to the core of his distress. "When Thorongil made his legend in Gondor, Ecthelion still ruled and I was not yet born. Aragorn must be my father's age at the least."  
  
"He is older than he looks."  
  
Faramir choked a laugh, still reeling.  
  
Gandalf spoke gently, "If the word of Elrond was not proof enough, so he shows that the blood of Numenor runs true in him. He _is_ Isildur's heir."  
  
Faramir thought back at how his dream leapt in his heart when he first saw an unknown man in a hall of the Eldar, grimly dressed but not out of place. "I know that in my heart. My father knew also, but he refused? Where is his honor? What of his oath? He swore it, _until the return of the King_ , and he had already met him, knew him?"  
  
Gandalf frowned; these were heavy matters indeed. He chose his next words carefully. "Forty years ago. You are certain of this, that your father must have known Thorongil's true nature which he hid by using an assumed name? Would not your father have asked, 'Where is the proof?'"  
  
"Here," Faramir put a hand on his heart and his voice broke in confusion. "I know. We are Stewards. I am a younger son, he was Heir and soon to rule when his heart hardened against Thorongil. If the Oath sang in my heart on first sight it should have been stronger yet for my father."   
  
"Perhaps, perhaps not. Of the Steward and his sons, only you dreamed the prophecy."  
  
Faramir looked away, trying to keep the pain he felt from showing on his face. "Gondor has diminished these many years so close to the shadow. Yet we remain proud of our history. Many are the times that one man or another will at meal or before the fire tell a tale of past days to strengthen our purpose in darker times. Aragorn spoke true: the name of Thorongil is well remembered in Rohan. In Minas Tirith it is only whispered."  
  
"You should be speaking with Aragorn of this, not me."  
  
The passion in Faramir's voice drained out, and his words wandered. "When I was young I remember old men speaking -- men now dead -- comparing the strength of Gondor before and after Thorongil came and they were angry at my father that he treated Thorongil as enemy and caused him to leave before sent, and the city was now less safe and for this cause they moved their families out and south and west. They did not know I was anywhere close to hear their complaints, nor did they know who I was. One of these men died of age two summers ago. His daughter came back as the wife of ... I can't remember his name. He was patrolling in Ithilien." The words finally ended and Faramir walked long in silence, troubled at his display.  
  
"Am I the youngest of this company?" he asked suddenly, attempting to lift the mood.  
  
Gandalf laughed. "You would have been, if Elrond had convinced Pippin to return to the Shire."   
  
Faramir groaned.  
  
"Shall we line ourselves up at the dinner table?" Gandalf continued. "Pippin shall sit first, the youngest, and Legolas last. Frodo is the middle at fifty. Take heart! I think Meriadoc is but a single year your elder, and you, he and Sam should be grouped together. I do not know Gimli's age, nor do I think he would tell me, so I cannot place him in relation to Aragorn or Bilbo."  
  
"And yourself? You are not before Legolas?"  
  
"I am as I arrived on these shores, many hundreds of years, but within this age."  
  
"You are not going to tell me."  
  
"Did you realize Bilbo may have seen Aragorn as a child in Rivendell when he passed through on the way to his adventure in Erebor? He has no memory of it. Aragorn was ten at the time, and called Estel. He remembers looking at Bilbo and the dwarves, but he asked no questions."  
  
"He has many names."  
  
"Yes."  
  
-*-  
  
  
At the mid-day meal Aragorn approached Faramir, and Faramir, in the bright sunlight, waved away the older man's concern. "You surprised me," he assured. But he was silent and sat apart that evening. Even so, he answered Aragorn's greeting when he approached and sat beside him.  
  
Eventually, Faramir spoke, unshed tears in his voice. "I know the story, the histories. Elendil died. His two sons, born in Numenor. Isildur founded Arnor; Anarion, Gondor. The jewel of Gondor was Osgiliath. I have walked its ruins. Elrond could have seen it in its glory, if he had not removed himself from affairs of men in his disappointment. We now try to make that right. Those who caused the ruin of Osgiliath were not the enemy, but ourselves, in civil war, when the succession was disputed -- "  
  
"Faramir -- "  
  
"What are we to do? My blood wars with itself. Denethor will refuse you; Boromir will stand with him. I fear this. What am I to do?"  
  
"We have a long road yet to travel. I said it at the Council: I will not make any claim until Sauron is defeated."  
  
"My family is lost to me." Faramir covered his face, no longer wanting company. "I did not want to learn this of my father, I did not."  
  
-*-   
  
Faramir spent the next day walking alone in the line, and the day after with Pippin. Then, as before, he walked and ate sometimes with one and sometimes another. He listened again to Gimli, Legolas and the hobbits speak of their peoples. He asked Aragorn to tell him of the Northmen and his family; he answered Aragorn's questions about Denethor, Boromir, Gondor and Rohan, for Aragorn's recent travel had been on the edges while Faramir had been in the centers of power.  
  
But they could not stay on their path, once the crebain showed the land was watched, and they turned East at the pass of Caradhras.  
  
== end chapter ==  



	3. Moria

They had tried the mountain pass and had been defeated, and so would go under the mountains through the ancient tunnels and halls of Moria. They had skirted a dark, forbidding pool in order to reach the doors. Bill refused to enter, and Gandalf agreed the lightless halls were no place for ponies. It was difficult for Sam to say goodbye. In the dark entrance hall Gandalf lit his staff, and in the dim light they pulled the doors closed, and the same magic as upon opening, brought it the last inches shut and they could see no seam. Abandoned luggage and saddlebags were also left outside, but it was the loss of the pony Sam minded most. "I don't like this place," he sniffed, still staring at the door as if trying to see his friend through the stone.  
  
"At least snow can not follow us here," Pippin muttered.  
  
"Up the stairs and keep close," Gandalf said.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Travel in the dark was a long and difficult journey. Near the entrance there were a few shafts, Gandalf said, to let in sunlight, but it was night above so they were no help. The floor was mostly smooth, but fallen stones or sudden cracks could appear at any moment, and there seemed little way to mark distance traveled. Even with echoes that spoke of vast halls and empty space, the deep dark closed in on them and all speech was at a whisper. They walked the rest of the night away and into the day.  
  
In the mid morning the company took a brief halt, sitting at the edge of the broad dark way that was their road. Gandalf laid his staff down in the center of their rough circle, its faint glow illuminating their faces. They had traveled far enough inwards that there were no shafts to let the light down for the mountain roof was too tall, though the roof of the road had been cut very high to encourage air to move. The hobbits, the most weary, leaned against the wall. Gimli was next to Gandalf and Legolas sat on the other side.  
  
Sam helped Pippin adjust his pack and knocked loose one of the hard cheeses from the jumble at top. Aragorn caught and handed it back and Pippin thanked him.  
  
Faramir was close enough to hear the name he used. " 'Strider'," he repeated, a short grunt of a laugh. He had not heard the name in several days, and now it had new meaning.  
  
"I have many names," Aragorn replied. There was a smile in his voice.  
  
"At least in Rohan they gave you a name of more dignity."  
  
"You've been to Rohan?" Merry asked.  
  
"And Gondor. I know Faramir's city well. I have been fighting the Shadow for long years."  
  
"As men count years," said Legolas.  
  
"There are many generations from Isildur to now," answered Faramir.  
  
"Where Isildur was wrong, I will do as I can to make right, yet remembering the lesson of Osgiliath."  
  
"Osgiliath?"  
  
"A great city now in ruins."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Not the Enemy, Gondor itself. It was the Kinstrife."  
  
"The Stewards rule in Gondor," said Frodo slowly. "That's your father, Faramir?"  
  
"Very good," said Gandalf. "You understand the difficulty."  
  
"It would not be well for me in my own name to return to Minas Tirith unasked."  
  
"My dream was the asking," said Faramir, his voice troubled.  
  
"You said your father didn't want you to go to Rivendell."  
  
"He may not agree with the answer you found."  
  
"No. He won't."  
  
Said Gimli, "I think it would be hard for any Man or Dwarf, once having power, to yield it to another."  
  
They sat in silence for several minutes more, then Gandalf declared the halt over.  
  
-*-  
  
  
They walked in silence. The strange conversation had given Aragorn much to ponder.  
  
 _How do I untangle such a knot? And how do I take up my inheritance if I do not? All these years there have been only a few who were privy to my hopes. Father and his children, Gandalf, Halbarad. It was a grief to mother, and she died never reconciled. I am surprised Bilbo dug the story out of me; I am glad for his friendship and support. He gives my lady reason to smile, with his silly stories and curious questions while he himself worries more and more. Mostly I have kept to the counsel of my own thoughts. I can stay hidden no longer._  
  
Aragorn reviewed his companions' reactions. Pippin did not understand. Sam was unsure but would follow Frodo's lead. Frodo and Merry were putting matters together. As they said in Bree, this was "Big People business". Aragorn wondered how such a conversation would run its course there. Probably with blank stares and polite excuses and Barliman angry at him for emptying the common room.  
  
Power and possession. Scrape away the words and hopes, that was what was at the bottom of his quest. Power, possession and change. The harbingers of war. _Who would want that in his lifetime?_  
  
Legolas and Gimli had witnessed such in the lands surrounding the Lonely Mountain: the conflicting purposes of elves and men and dwarves. Their fathers had been opponents on that field of battle. Gimli was born soon before or after Smaug took the mountain, scattering the dwarves that lived there. He had been an exile who had returned to his homeland. He understood, and his words seemed to be a friendly caution: Aragorn should not hope for more than he could obtain. The Ruling Stewards were no Smaug -- those who ruled in Gondor were not a family of evil dragons that needed to be driven out.   
  
Aragorn shook his head, not knowing how he could explain to the dwarf. The blood of Elendil did not flow in Gimli's veins. Gimli did not know of Arwen and the impossibility of Aragorn giving up that hope. As he said, Sauron first, which would be another sign. It was no little thing ... but Arwen was certain, and with her hope he would hope.  
  
And Faramir was again pacing beside him, sharing the end of the line. He wanted to be close, though he did not seek to speak.   
  
_I do not know if he accepts the silence we all walk in, or is annoyed I say nothing. It is right we are silent. I had hoped we would not take this path._ There was a sense of danger at the back of his mind. _Or is it that I do not like how the darkness calls to mind that which I have set aside? No. I felt this dread in the light; before we began this path._  
  
But that choice had already been made. He could do naught but stay alert. So as he watched the stone way before him, he considered the matter of kingship. He had recognized Faramir as kin of the Steward when he had entered Elrond's council, by reason of his clothing, his face and his bearing. Although Gandalf had alerted him to take special note of Faramir, it had been hard to say whether the wizard was surprised or not. He seemed to have been curious rather than anxious about the potential for confrontation, nor would he share much of his thoughts with Aragorn afterwards.  
  
Aragorn had a much more personal reaction. His sword, his name -- they were a claim on the throne of Gondor, and while Faramir, at the Council, had spoken of difficulties connected with the appearance of that claim, he had not at all disputed it. Rather, he had spoken of the naming of Elendil as being a matter of hope.   
  
_I had not expected that of a son of Denethor._ It was a matter that wanted discussion, but he thought it unwise to do so while still in Elrond's house. Neither had Faramir sought him out. Faramir was far removed from his father's center of power; it would be better, Aragorn reasoned, to speak in more neutral surroundings. But he needed to be certain in his own mind first.  
  
Aragorn walked next to the young man. His presence was another sign, both hopeful and hard. How many other people were sent signs who did nothing, were selfish? Faramir had not known what the dream would send him to find. He came north, he asked ... and though he did not shirk from the answer, there were others that would. _That is his honor. The loyalty he gives me is not unwon. By my blood, by the years in the wild I have toiled, and I have Elrond's support. The tokens of my heritage were left in his care._ There were signs enough that the Valar wanted this, that Sauron must be brought down and this was the way to that end. If the victory would be real, it must be in all people's hearts to keep it long and faithful, for many lives of men, that peace and happiness return.  
  
_Still, though the crown might be mine to take, I would rather cause those who will be my people to want to give. I do not want to come between Faramir and his family for less cause. He does as he should, yet he surely will be paid in pain. Yet how else can anyone be tested, if not by sacrifice? Did Denethor know, did the oath tell him, was he wrong to look on me as enemy, or did I do wrong by hiding myself?_ That was a question Aragorn rolled about and tore apart in his mind to consider every aspect. _There was no sign. Love is not a sign, Elrond declaring an impossible task is not a sign. If it was only on me to go south and speak aloud my claim, then it would have been the same for my father and his fathers. It was my test to see and learn and not speak until the Powers spoke first: the stirring of Sauron, the finding of the Ring, Faramir's dream._ He laughed silently, without humor. Denethor would not admit those signs. To all of this, he would answer that all free peoples must fight, and all owed to Gondor because Gondor was the first defense.  
  
 _And his son has all but sworn his oath to me. In his heart it is already said. My first subject?_ Aragorn's eyes were wary on the floor under his feet. _How do I feel about that? Faramir is thirty-five years old, already battle-tested. Leading attacks. At that age, though I had left the North, I had still been a student, learning the ways of men, after being raised among Eldar._ In Rohan Theoden, son of Thengel, was learning the spear. It was another few years before Thorongil began his service in Rohan. From there he went to Gondor to serve Ecthelion. _The crown is mine to inherit, by Gondor's own laws. I swore an oath to one who held my land in stewardship, but any heir must first be subordinate to him who rules before him, in order to learn his duties._  
  
Gimli had the right of it. Denethor would not want to yield. Rather, he would resist and demand reasons. _What must I need show beyond proof of my lineage to gain what I seek? It is mine by right._  
  
In his memory he walked in Minas Tirith. In the court before the citadel, there was a tree long dead. The white tower, the mountain behind, the walls of stone, the great gate, the broad empty streets. Fear smothered his city, he could well imagine how the darkness from Mordor would have diminished it further in the years since. _My city was not for death,_ he vowed. _I would have it healed._ Yet Denethor held Minas Tirith as his own.   
  
_Is it mine?_ Aragorn asked himself. _Yes,_ his heart answered. _Then what of the Steward?_ His eyes hardened. _If he break his Oath, the Oath will break him._  
  
-*-  
  
  
The day's marches had been long and tiring. They had walked half or more of the length of the city, and Gandalf was unsure of their exact location. It was time for rest. A room was chosen, and they prepared themselves for sleep.  
  
Faramir put his roll next to Aragorn's. "You have been quiet."  
  
"I usually am."  
  
"What does History tell you?"  
  
"The same as you." His voice was clipped. "Blood. Pain. Occasional victories."  
  
Faramir obviously disliked that tone. "You are called to return. How do we make that victory?"  
  
Aragorn laughed. It was an unpleasant sound. "You forget what lurks in Mordor. It was fear of Sauron that sent you to find me. That will be my proof. _Isildur's Heir must right Isildur's wrong._ Denethor will expect me to fail. Though he would, I think, accept a victory that came at the cost of my life. We can base a truce on that."  
  
"Why should you -- "  
  
Faramir's indignant complaint was cut short. Not by any word or gesture from Aragorn, but by a sudden stab of pain deep within. _I may not speak to my King this way!_  
  
Aragorn was thankful for the sudden silence. He considered his words. He needed to sleep, but it would be better to speak now than let this continue. "Thank you, Faramir. For your sake, you should pretend to be skeptical. I appreciate your support, but Denethor now rules and he will cast you out, I fear."   
  
Faramir made no answer, to Aragorn's concern. He would have to deal with this. Maybe in the light of day they could find balance. Once in Gondor, dissension could be fatal. Faramir loved his father; yet all that he had said made it clear Denethor's manner had not changed since becoming Steward. He was dangerous when his anger was roused.  
  
-*-  
  
  
The next day was marches again. When it came to evening the doorways and halls multiplied again, to either side, and their path was again unsure. They chose a place against the corridor wall to sleep. When it was morning outside, they would have the additional help of faint light coming down the shafts, and so find their way out of the darkness.  
  
-*-  
  
  
With the light, they found Balin's tomb. It was a sorrow to Gimli and a warning to Aragorn. These dwarves attempted to return from generations in exile and were all of them killed.  
  
 _Therefore, would my return be likewise futile?_ ... but that was only a passing thought. The sense of danger returned. There was danger here for them all, but especially Gandalf.   
  
_We depend too much on him, the light of his staff, his knowledge to find the doors. At the front he is most vulnerable. They will catch us!_ Fear rose in him. The halls had been too long silent, the peace was deceptive; this was the silence before an ambush. _Be ready!_  
  
-*-  
  
  
When the orc attack came in the Tomb, Gandalf stood at the front with staff and sword. At the head of the stairs, he covered their retreat, defending the doors. Then, already weary, he barred the bridge, but what approached was too much.  
  
It had been cat and mouse, and they had been the hunted ones. They got the door blocked behind them, Balin's tomb buried by falling rock, but there were more orcs before them. Moria had many halls but few exits. The orcs knew ways they knew not. And Moria was also home to an older evil: Durin's Bane.  
  
The Balrog was beyond their strength.  
  
-*-  
  
  
And it was Aragorn's destiny that fell into the dark with Gandalf, as he and Faramir ran back across the crumbling bridge. "Run, run!" he called to the others, and as they ran to the outer gates and they cut down the few guards at that door he felt the loss.  
  
At first it was a small, fluttering thing against the rage, fear and confusion, all clambering for attention with the needs of battle and searching for new danger amid the sun-lit rocks outside the door. It was early morning. Down, down they had to run. _Orcs will follow, come nightfall. Where now?_ Down, down. _Had anyone stumbled? Count them! Four children are here, two and two. They cannot run this pace for long. Dwarf, tall man and tall elf, and that is seven._   
  
_Gandalf has fallen into darkness, and into darkness all my hope._ Aragorn's grief overwhelmed him, and then what it meant crashed down upon him and he could not breathe. His feet slowed and the others cast themselves onto the ground, weeping; Moria's gates were far out of sight above them. "It falls to me, then, all that was his to do," he whispered making the words an oath, though spoken too low for any to hear. "It is Gandalf I will mourn," he willed the other grief to silence, "not wife, nor crown."  
  
A few minutes he gave them, then got them up, setting a pace somewhat slower for they must cover many miles before the sunlight failed.  
  
"My lord, what now will we do?" asked Faramir, who had wept as if it were his father he had seen die.  
  
"We continue," Aragorn answered. As the signs showed him, he would take the path. It would be Gandalf and he that would pay the price for Saruman's treachery.  
  
=== end chapter ===


	4. The Tests of Lorien

Aragorn entered Lorien as if to a long lost home, where he would find solace for his soul before leaving all he loved behind him. For most of the others, it was also healing, though their sorrow was not so great.   
  
When the remaining members of the Fellowship reached the elven city, they were greeted by its Lord and Lady. Galadriel looked at each in turn, but she looked longest on Aragorn, for she, also, knew what he hoped for. He met her gaze a time, then lowered his eyes ... and she was afterwards troubled.  
  
  
Lord Celeborn ordered a tent to be prepared for the travelers and servants brought them there. Frodo was the first to speak. "Why was she staring so long at you, Strider? It was more ... more than our bad news."  
  
Aragorn turned away. It was several moments before he spoke. "What did she ask you?"  
  
"I don't want to stay here," he said quietly.  
  
"Why?" Sam asked.  
  
"I'm afraid."  
  
Without further word, they made their beds and slept deeply, setting no watch. Food was brought them when they woke but they were otherwise let be. When, at last, they spoke, it was of Moria and Gandalf.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Gimli sat with a double sorrow, trying to put to deep memory what little he had seen of Balin's book, before the underground battle had begun. "After so long without word ... We feared. We did not want our fear to be true. There were many that said to Balin, 'Do not do this.' -- "  
  
Legolas looked at Aragorn, though his question was directed to the dwarf. "Were there not others who gave him encouragement? Before we came to the tomb, you were hopeful."  
  
"It ever was a dream of mine, to enter Moria. I was glad when he, when Gandalf -- I still -- such work has never since ... It is veiled all in sorrow, now."  
  
"There were wonders built in Gondor, also," Faramir said. "It was my joy to be born there, the tower and the walls." They had all spoken of their homes before, but the ache was stronger now. "Boromir didn't want me to travel so far from Gondor," he admitted, "but it had to be me. I had the dream. It was a summons. He wanted to come, but we couldn't both. My father pretended agreement, then used that as a reason to prevent me altogether -- I was to take others with me. Three would safer, but too slow. And he could not spare so much, when everywhere was undermanned. Boromir saw his strategy and finally trusted me, and I alone was sent."  
  
"He didn't want you to make this journey?"  
  
"No. But he believed in the importance of the dream. It came so often. He is protective of me, proud of what I did in Ithilien, but he is angry at any danger I put myself into."  
  
"He is a warrior, then, as you are?"  
  
"He is five years older, and would protect me still," Faramir laughed. "We look much alike, except I'm a bit stretched," he demonstrated with his hands, "I'm taller but he is broader … and a stone's weight heavier. We both have swords," he pointed to his quiver, "but I'm better with a bow."  
  
  
Later Legolas spoke to Faramir, remembering the conversation in Moria which had puzzled him. "You wish Aragorn to come to your city, but you also fear it."  
  
"It is taught by scholars in Gondor that the sons of the last king in the north died with him in battle, even as the last king of Gondor died heirless."   
  
"Do you doubt Elrond's words? He was there."  
  
Faramir shook his head. "It seems their knowledge of distant lands was incomplete."  
  
"So your fear of another Kinstrife."  
  
"I fear he will not come," Faramir answered low. "That with Mithrandir taken from us, he will have to turn aside from his path."  
  
  
-*-  
  
The days passed, there was no discussion, and they lost count of the days. Aragorn seemed lost in memory most of the time, he seemed almost as distant as Galadriel and Celeborn, who they did not see after their first meeting. Gimli let Legolas show him one place and another, and found the attention amusing. He wished to see Galadriel again. Faramir hovered between wonder and unease. He spent much time walking, perhaps wanting to find Aragorn. Instead, he learned – or tried to learn – the ordering of the city. It was more than strange. He sometimes met elves who spoke with enough courtesy, but seemed to say little. The hobbits were happy for food and bed. Sam even tried to find gardens and kitchens to explore; he didn't have much luck. The elves in Lorien seemed more private about their work and homes than the elves in Rivendell.   
  
The tent, absent harsh weather, soon became almost as welcoming as a cozy hobbit home, yet Frodo was often restless. "When we are done here," he said at a meal, "what will we do next?"  
  
"I will guide you," Aragorn answered.  
  
  
"You are troubled, Faramir," Aragorn said when the meal was done. They were standing outside a distance from the tent, speaking softly.  
  
"She was testing us," he replied. "When we first came here. Lady Galadriel." Aragorn nodded. "She seemed to talk to me -- yet it was a vision, not words. What did she show you?"  
  
A soft wind moved the leaves above them. After a long pause, he answered. "Temptation."  
  
Faramir's reply was spoken quickly. "I saw the land at peace, ... if I go home. Why should she do this?" He swallowed, hard, but kept his eyes open and did not turn away. "I served my King. I don't know if he was you or my father. The King was a tall man, his face was full of light. There were no swords. Green growing everywhere. No hurt. My wife, my children beautiful. No reason to look beyond each other and our family. No cares or worry. If I turn aside." His voice broke in grief. "She is not kind to ask me this. Has my life been so selfish she must test me so cruelly? Is there nothing but darkness?" Finally, he turned away. "Our hearts called to each other -- were we wrong to speak?"  
  
"My test was similar to yours." Aragorn said, looking upward. "Arwen, my lady, dwelt with me. Yet I had become of Elf-kind, not she mortal."  
  
"That could never happen, could it?"  
  
"But in the mind of one mad, the goal of an impossible thing can lead to terrible wrong. The faithless of Numenor who attempted to steal the secret of immortality from Valinor acted under such an error. Luthien demanded an impossible thing, and gained joy. Therefore I am vulnerable, if I be tempted to think I have or could gain power enough. Much I should grieve to be sundered from my ancestors, my mother Gilraen, but Elrond was the only father I ever knew and I will lose him." That had been a great pain for Aragorn since childhood, long before he ever saw Arwen. "What I asked of Arwen was too much."  _Yet if what she said on our parting is true, then let not my grief slow me. My reward will be beyond the circles of the world._  "We were not wrong to speak our hearts."  
  
  
-*-  
  
Galadriel had been troubled in her mind since that first day. She often sat in the forest alone, considering what might be the cause of her unease, and what she might do. So Aragorn found her as he walked. He sat on the ground before her bench, his back against its edge.  
  
She spoke first. "The last you came to this place I saw hope, and hope there is still, yet -- " Her words faltered. She wanted to see his face, but by his choice of seat, he didn't want her to see his. It was thus he would sit, Elrond told her once, when he would come to him when still a child, shy to ask his questions.  
  
"We must leave soon," he explained in a calm voice. "What was once one path is now many."   
  
"Arwen?" she asked, and Aragorn's fist clenched, confirming her fear. It was Luthien and Beren again, and she did not want that pain for either of them. "Estel, why do you grieve?"  
  
"I have seen, and she has seen, and she would cleave to me, she says, come what may. But there are others, Grandmother, who dream. There are others who have power." His voice sank further down to a whisper. "I am grateful my path took me through your land again."  
  
"What do you find here?"  
  
"Peace; strength." He paused. "Healing."  
  
Those were words she did not wish to hear. He no longer hoped for himself. Aragorn had not, he could never abandon hope and duty. But he had never before named her by a word that claimed her as kin. He would not claim kinship now except for a marriage that would not be made. She did not want him to make that sacrifice, not only for her granddaughter's sake. She loved them both. She stood, and when she spoke her voice did not betray her emotion. "Will you walk with me?"   
  
He also stood and followed as she led, but when he saw the bowl and the ewer, he stopped and backed away from the downward stairway, then waited for her to notice he was no longer behind her. He did not look at her face when she returned, but rather stared at her hand, for he knew what she wore there was invisible. "Would you show me visions of glory, Grandmother?" he asked. "Would you have me take this ring and wield it?"  
  
"I ask you only to look," she said gently. "If there are many paths, you need guidance."  
  
"Not your mirror." His voice was flat; it then became determined. "It would be no comfort to see my heart's desire if that path has been taken from me. Nor do I wish you to be tempted to act on my behalf." He lifted his eyes to hers. "I will not repeat Isildur's error. I will not act against my father's counsel, nor should you. What little I know compared to his wisdom, I agree. Has it tempted you, Grandmother? I know by your powers time is slowed here. Do you hold us, wishing to be offered or to take?"  
  
"You wrong me, Aragorn."  
  
"Father has the right of this. We must not rebel. We can take no risk. Forgive me, Grandmother, I can't."  
  
  
-*-  
  
On the morrow came word from Lord Celeborn. Boats had been made ready for the next stage of their journey. Before leaving Lorien, they feasted with the Lord and Lady, and were bid farewell, and given council and gifts. "The Elfstone you will take," Galadriel told Aragorn as she put it in his hands. "For my daughter's daughter has bidden I give this to you as her token."  
  
To the others she gave the gifts she had prepared, and the gift Gimli had named when commanded to say his desire. To Frodo she gave a small crystal phial in which was caught the light of Eärendil's star, which would be a light to him in dark places. "These words go with this gift: If you find yourself in darkness, do not give in to fear. Remember those who love you."  
  
  
-*-  
  
Later that day, as the boats let the river take them down stream, Faramir took a longer look at his gift, turning the pages to scan the text.  
  
"What is the book she gave you?" Pippin asked.  
  
" 'A poem of Lorien,' she said. I think its founding. If Elrond had a copy in his library, I did not chance upon it."  
  
"Back then, we didn't know we would come this way," Merry observed. "And Strider said it, Lorien is a secret place."  
  
  
=== end chapter ===   
  
  



	5. Questions on the River

The hobbits switched in the boats, so Faramir often had Frodo in his boat and they would speak often in Sindarin or Quenya, discussing the poem that was in Faramir's book, and other history.  
  
Gimli stayed always with Legolas and there was joking about that. They would say 'the Elf' or 'the Dwarf' rather than use each other's names. "Why not?" Legolas answered Pippin's inquiry. "Is there another Dwarf in our company?"  
  
-*-  
  
  
After a few days on the river, Faramir asked Aragorn his intentions, and volunteered to lead the company East, for he was familiar with Ithilien. But Aragorn felt this responsibility had come to him at Gandalf's death. He saw much of himself in Faramir's words about Eowyn, and he did not want to turn Faramir away from his promise to return. Nor could he let himself fail at this test: did he want the crown and the promise it gave him so much he would let the quest fail? No. Though he would lose Arwen, yet he would save his world and all that lived there. "I intended to return with you to Minas Tirith. But Frodo and Sam cannot go East alone, and there is the creature Gollum to contend with. He has been following us. He is a dangerous footpad and I have experience of him."  
  
"There are still days yet before our paths part. He will be easier dealt with when we are at full strength."  
  
"Indeed. I had hoped we had lost him in Lorien. He is tenacious. I will not willingly leave off guarding the ringbearer, particularly as long as Gollum is free, alive and a threat. And you must go first to Rohan and warn King Theoden against Saruman's treachery."  
  
"You could better give that warning, for you have fought with them while I have not."  
  
"You have proof enough."  
  
"Yours is better. And, in Ithilien, Men of Gondor yet patrol, I hope, and they would hinder you -- a stranger -- if they find you, for you are not acknowledged. I could ask their aid if need be and not be questioned."  
  
"But Gondor was driven from that land in June, before you left."  
  
"In the months since Boromir may have regained our outposts."  
  
"Unlikely," he answered, and waved aside Faramir's objection. "Orc or Ranger, I shall take care not to be seen." Then he would speak no more. That night, Faramir saw Aragorn speaking softly to Gimli, and he fell into a troubled sleep.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Between one heartbeat and the next the vision sounded within his mind as the single strike of a great silver bell; its echoes rang as thunder in the mountains of his home.  
  


_Seek for the sword that was broken  
In Imladris it dwells ..._

Faramir sat up, casting his cloak aside. The boats were beached, and the company slept. Pippin had the watch. He saw Faramir moving and was hopeful he was volunteering to over, but Faramir went to Aragorn and woke him. "I dreamed, Lord."  
  
"Faramir -- "  
  
"Gandalf is fallen. Still the Blessed Lands sent me the dream! Saruman changes nothing!"  
  
"Frodo must go to Mordor."  
  
"Yes. That is _his_ task, not yours. You are for my City. If you refuse, I and the rest will die."  
  
"What power do you think I have?"  
  
"That is not shown to me."  
  
Aragon stared a long moment. Faramir met his eyes, unflinching, no doubt in his posture. "Go," Aragorn at last ordered. "Go back to sleep."  
  
Faramir did not move. Eventually it was Aragorn who broke eye contact, and moved to stand. If Faramir would not leave him, he would leave Faramir.  
  
Faramir grabbed his wrist and held him in place.  
  
"You must go west, or the City will fall. That is the meaning of my dream. Gondor calls to you, but you are tempted to another path."  
  
"I am one man, Faramir."  
  
"You are King. Do not look at me as if I am an enemy. I cannot say how it might be that you will save us, I know only it is true." His voice did not falter. "I will take the ringbearer to the mountain. I will not fail you. You will not fail me. Whatever the cost we gladly pay and those we guard shall live." Still, Aragorn would not yield.  
  
Faramir firmed the grip on his wrist. His eyes were cold. "What command have you been sent, that you would call my message false?"  
  
Aragorn's eventual answer was spoken slowly. He had ruled his life by signs, both dark and hopeful. Now, against all logic, Faramir told another sign that echoed his own desire. "My dreams ... are only in the day. What I want -- my lady. No fear on the land. In sleep I am lost in blood and nothingness."  
  
Faramir opened his hand and drew it back. "In my dreams, Lord, there is the sea. And the light is golden, and it fills me. You deny your heart. The call of the crown is true. Lord, I beg you, go west. Let me lead the party east."  
  
_Can there be light beyond this darkness?_ Aragorn asked himself. _Gandalf is lost, yet the same task remains. I have less power, Faramir has none, except a heart that begged the West for safety of his people. Death?_ He saw Gandalf fall again. _Death for us all? The cost of victory will be hard indeed, for Faramir, for me. But others may live. Sauron is powerful. The power of the West is not infinite, the strength they send is through living, willing tools. Faramir, seeing the darkness deepen, must have prayed to be so used, as did I. What choice do I have?_  
  
"Peace, Faramir. If you beg it, if the Valar command it, I will go to your city ... with what little help I may give. This doom you put on me will be the breaking of my heart."  
  
=== end chapter ===  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from FotR:  
> 'It would indeed be a betrayal, if we all left him,' said Aragorn. 'But if he goes east, then all need not go with him; nor do I think that all should. That venture is desperate: as much so for eight as for three or two, or one alone. If you would let me choose, then I should appoint three companions: Sam, who could not bear it otherwise; and Gimli; and myself. Boromir will return to his own city, where his father and his people need him; and with him the others should go, or at least Meriadoc and Peregrin, if Legolas is not willing to leave us.'


	6. The Parting of the Fellowship

As the Fellowship prepared to separate they saw signs that all directions were fraught with danger. In the last miles before Ramos, Frodo and Sam had ridden in Aragorn's boat. Aragorn had asked if it was still Frodo's decision, to continue to Mordor. Frodo had said 'yes' without hesitation, but he had faltered when Aragorn had asked he accept Faramir rather than him. _"I will guide you if you ask it, with Gimli's help. But Faramir has given me good reason, and Ithilien is well known to him. "I know nothing of these lands," Frodo had said at the last. "If you think it best. I know you have spoken much between you."_ The night had passed uneasily, especially for the hobbits. Sam could not keep from hovering, and Frodo was near rebellion.  
  
It was morning now, and there was no time for further debate. When Aragorn asked Frodo to unsheath Sting, it had glowed dimly. Orcs were near, on the east side of the river. As the others packed and made their farewells Aragorn went briefly to Ammon Hen and saw the coming battle in the west and felt great danger for Rohan. Gollum was still unaccounted for, but Aragorn could not be two places at once and had to trust the truth of Faramir's words. Signs guided both their paths.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Faramir looked west, and his heart ached. Then he felt a stab of fear when he saw an emotion in Aragorn's gaze that he did not think Aragorn meant him to see. _No, my King! Do not, in your pity, make of her a gift to me. If you delay to take your crown Gondor will fall, I know it! Mithrandir was as a father to me when my own cared little for my dreaming. His spirit is with me, I will do as he would have. The Valar will guide me, and guide Frodo. Sauron will be defeated and my brother, my people, my lady, we shall all live free of fear._ "Will you bring my greeting to my lady, Lord?" he asked firmly. His eyes lowered when he spoke the rest, "And ask her pardon that I was unable to return as promised?"  
  
Aragorn nodded, feeling again the sorrow of losing Gandalf, that Faramir and he would not reenter the city side by side, as they had spoken of the road south from Rivendell. "It will to my joy to finally meet the Lady Eowyn."  
  
"She prays for me." Faramir smiled, and the tension of his shoulders seemed less.  
  
Aragorn smiled broadly in return. "I am sure of it. As Arwen watches me in her thought." They clasped each other's arms in a warrior's salute. "Whatever happens, hold to that as your strength. We hope for a bright future, but if our end is dark, love will light the darkness and be our final comfort."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Merry stared at Sam, and made an angry mutter. "He's too close to Frodo."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Pippin asked.  
  
Merry's anger was at himself. "Gandalf told Sam to take care of Frodo. Rosie told me to take care of Sam. I should have told him earlier."  
  
"Tell him! They're not gone yet."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"You think he'd desert him?"  
  
"No! But Frodo's already in so many knots. If he knew, he'd try to push him away. Maybe push all of them away."  
  
"Merry!"  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Hug him and whisper in his ear."  
  
Merry shock his head, glad that he had reason enough for tears that he did not have to hide them. He wanted to be no closer to Mordor but he was upset and shamed he was not considered. "Sam would ask questions."  
  
"If you won't I will," Pippin declared, and marched back toward Frodo and Sam, Merry following after.  
  
Sam looked up when he heard his name called -- confused, as there already had been a round of tearful goodbyes. Frodo turned around. His eyes were dry and his hands were tense, almost fisted.   
  
"Oh," Pippin stammered. He could see Merry was right. Frodo was two seconds from being set off. What fix would they all be in if Frodo got stubborn and sent everyone away? If it came to it, he wouldn't say no to Strider -- only if Strider kept Sam from following. Sam would never forgive him. "Are --Are you sure you have enough food?"   
  
"I can give you some more Lembas," Merry added, sounding relieved.   
  
Sam laughed. "Of course, I'd take all the food if I could." They'd already had this discussion. "With all the rocks we'll be dealing with, with the extra blankets we've taken all we can carry."   
  
"I know. I -- "   
  
"You don't want to say goodbye."   
  
"No I don't," Pippin sniffled.   
  
"Alright then," Frodo said. "One more hug."   
  
They locked arms again, and huddled. "Take care," Merry said as they separated again, two and two.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Gimli would put Sam on his boat, and Faramir would take Frodo. It was a difficult parting. Legolas and Gimli, having formed a strong friendship, were not happy to be separated, but Legolas agreed that five would be too large a party.   
  
Legolas looked at Faramir and pressed his lips together. "Mithrandir," his voice still carried grief to say the name. "Now is our loss most dearly felt. Denethor's son is right, Aragorn must go to Minas Tirith. Yet -- "  
  
"Do not worry for me, elf. I will have my axe ever ready. I will make short work of those mountains. And you know well I have the Lady's gift with me, and we all have her cloaks, so the four peoples still will guard the quest, as Master Elrond wanted. And you will be more help for Aragorn at Edoras. Men, in their blindness, they will pay more heed to one of the 'fair folk' than a dwarf, even if they distrust all."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Faramir and Gimli cast off. Legolas led the younger hobbits into the forest. Aragorn, concerned that orcs might find evidence to report that a party had crossed the river, worked to confuse the marking they would leave behind. The boat landing could not be hidden, so he dragged and shoved the remaining boat along the edge of the and scuffed it so it appeared that one overloaded boat had landed roughly after a short trip rather than three had landed quietly. He also took his knife to the bindings so that if any orcs, or Gollum, tried to use the boat it would quickly break apart. On the other shore, where there should be no report of landing at all, Faramir would send the boats, once empty, back into the water to crash over the falls.  
  
When he finished his work Aragorn looked up to see the two other boats were a good distance away. He waved his hand, and thought Sam might have seen it but all four were stroking hard against the current, and the boats would soon be out of sight behind Tol Elessea. Aragorn stood and turned, slung on his pack, then ran to follow Legolas' trail.  
  
== end chapter ==


	7. Attack of the White Hand

The orcs, they thought, would have been only near the riverside and so they hoped to avoid them. But deep in the forest they were discovered. Aragorn saw a movement. Legolas whispered he heard running feet; so the four traveled fast in the other direction, trying to confuse their path. They hoped the lone orc had long to go to make his report. As the ground began to slope down to the grasslands they were attacked. It was a company of orcs in strange livery.  
  
The fighting was fast and furious and the orcs jumped away from Aragorn's wrath as soon as they could grab the hobbits. He stood over Legolas who had been felled trying to take Pippin back from the orc that grabbed him. Four against a hundred or more had been impossible odds. The fighting had only lasted as long as it had because the orcs had wanted to take the hobbits alive and unwounded. Aragorn had killed too many that none of the rest wanted to be the next orc to die when they finished him off, though the last attempt had left him wounded. They taunted him to charge, and when he didn't they laughed and went away, taking their prizes with them. He could only watch.  
  
They ran west, they weren't from Mordor. The sign of a white hand on their shields must be for Saruman, and they were far from their home base. They ran in a tight formation. Legolas and he would not be orc food, he concluded grimly, unless there was another, hungrier band in the woods less concerned with speed. What Merry and Pippin faced was worse.  
  
Saruman's forces were gathering for war against Rohan, as Gandalf had warned and Aragorn feared. It was he alone, and he had to warn Theoden. He prayed it was not already too late.  
  
Warily -- expecting more orcs at any moment -- Aragorn bound up his and Legolas' wounds as best he could, one handed. He had been cut below the elbow on his shield arm. Legolas had received a slash on his arm and a deep gash below his ribs that would have been fatal even with a surgeon near by. Aragorn held up his shoulders that he could breathe easier. He softly called his name, saying the battle was done.  
  
"They took the hobbits," Aragorn said to Legolas, his voice harsh and fragmented with guilt and worry. "I couldn't stop them. They took them alive for questioning. Torture. Hardly more than children, they will do it. Curse him, curse me. How can I -- "  
  
"You can not," The elf said in a strained voice. "Theoden."  
  
"I must try," he protested.  
  
"Those foul _yrch_. From Saruman. There is that, at the least."  
  
"Sauron or Saruman, it still will be torture."  
  
"Less harm ... to Frodo. East won't know."  
  
"They were under my protection."  
  
"Think them ... dead. Hope they can contrive it before they ... taken questioners."  
  
"Children would not think of suicide."  
  
Legolas stiffened, hand on Aragorn's arm clenching strongly. "Then great harm ... may come of wh' they say. You must warn Rohan!"  
  
The council he gave was hard but true; Aragorn's heart begged him not to agree, but he must. Wounded and weary he would not be able to catch them in any case, yet it would hurt beyond measure not to try. He sighed, taking the elf's hand in his. "As you will, Legolas. I will continue to the court, though it grieves me."  
  
The elf sagged back. Aragorn feared he had died at that moment, but he breathed a time longer, weary, no longer fighting, nothing further to give, letting the life bleed out.  
  
"I'm sorry," Aragorn said, speaking elvish. "I will remember. Would I could say 'adieu', but I will, for sorrow, not see you again. Our peoples are sundered."  
  
" _Namarie,_ I must leave this fair land." His breathing was low and softened. He no longer had to fight to speak, though the words were so faint Aragorn could barely understand. "There are many that have gone before me to the Halls, and glad will I be for that reunion. But I will not see you again, nor that dwarf." Sorrow and loss filled the words. "I will remember all. Greet them for me. Arwen … You must know," he made his voice stronger. "I must tell you this ... for comfort. If you live or die, she has already chosen ... You will see her again. Any elf that looks on her ... can see: she is sundered from us. I wish her whatever possible joy."  
  
So she had said at their last parting, but with doubt. It may be that she could not see her own face to know. It was both comfort and guilt to have one who could see tell him. "I will give her your greeting."  
  
"Stars -- " he said in wonder. It was still day, but his eyes had darkened. He was seeing memory. "Sing to me."  
  
" _Elbereth_?" Aragorn asked.  
  
"... _yes_ ..."  
  
In a tear-filled voice he chanted. " _A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna miriel o menel aglar elenath_ \-- " Before the song was finished the eyes had closed and last breath sighed out and the body slumped dead.  
  
Aragorn laid him gently down to the ground, hands slick with their mingled blood. Gasping in pain and sorrow he redressed his left arm tight enough to stop the seeping.  
  
He leaned his head back, gazing upwards. The thin forest ceiling, leaves rustled in the dwindling sunlight, showed no sign of the carnage below. He wanted to sleep; he could not. Let the time he spent sitting be his rest. He had to cross the grasslands to the mountains and find a village within two days at the most. Saruman might attack at any time, and his wound might give him fever if he did not soon find a clear stream to wash it in.  
  
Dead orcs surrounded them. He dragged the closest away from the tree under which Legolas lay, and placed the elf's pack at his side. At the end he had to leave the body unburied. He used a blanket for a pillow and wrapped him as best he could in his cloak, and put the white knife on top for it to guard him. Most of his own pack he left behind, but he took the elf's broken bow as a token.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Aragorn walked alone, grieving, towards the mountains and the nearest Rohirrim hold. A sudden hope came to him and he wondered at it, cursing his failures, but then he saw the reason: There was a man on horseback, some distance away but riding in his direction. He walked quickly toward the pair until he was at the top of a gentle rise and knew his silhouette would be clear, dark against the sun-lit mountains. He waved his cape with his good arm, then stood still when the rider increased his speed.  
  
His heart beat strongly and the road, once confused, lay bright and straight before him, and he welcomed it, unafraid of its end.  
  
"Who are you, stranger?" demanded the scout, speaking accented Westron.  
  
Aragorn answered in Rohhiric. "I am Thorongil returned, and I am here to give warning to your king of grave betrayal. You will bring me to him."   
  
=== end chapter ===


	8. Gollum

The rocks were a constant battle. Remembering Legolas and the snow, Gimli muttered, "The Elf would have been of more use to you." But the rocks, wicked as they were, seemed to speak to the Dwarf and the party made steady progress south and down.

The sun was hiding behind clouds as they wound their way down near the end of the rocks. As they sat at midday for a scant meal of lembas, Frodo checked Sting and told the rest, "no orcs near." A few hours later, Faramir saw movement. Gollum was still following.

They came to a sharp drop, the only way down was to use the ropes, they camped a short distance from the rubble at the base of the cliff. Faramir took the first watch, silently woke the others -- hand over their mouths -- when he saw Gollum start to crawl down. When the creature was twenty feet above their heads, Faramir stood and let loose the arrow he had notched. It struck inches to one side, skittered up a space then fell and Gollum, startled, fell with it. Gimli got to him first, then he was held by all and Faramir questioned him.

His short curses soon turned to whining and begging. "Don't hurt us, _Gollum_. Nice walkerss, travelling where it's lonely, yesss. Hiding from orcess, yes?"

"Must have heard us talking," Sam muttered. "He's been following us close."

Gimli stated his opinion in a stronger voice. "Now we've found him, now we kill him."

That set up another round of begging. Faramir motioned Gimli to silence, then lifted Gollum out of his crouch. Gollum put his knees under his chin and hugged his legs. "Why were you following us?"

"Don't hurts us, nice walkersss, nice travelerss. Don't hurt us, precious. Shoots at us with arrows, precious. Not nice."

"And you were set to throttle us, I'm guessing," Sam said. "I agree with Gimli."

"Don't kill him!" Frodo said. He wanted to make it an order. Gandalf's words echoed in his mind. _It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand._ Gollum stared at him and went very still. The other three faces were angry, but not Frodo. Frodo searched for reasons that would convince. "We're enough to guard him. What he knows could be useful."

"Yesss, yesss," Gollum said to Frodo, to the kind face, making promises.

That led to a long argument, Gimli and Sam speaking the most and loudest. They wanted rid of the threat. Gimli complained about Faramir's bad shot, and he replied coldly that he hadn't missed.

Sam opened his mouth to voice his opinion again, but Faramir stopped the debate. "We are here to help Frodo, not tell him what to do."

"He will slow us down," Gimli grumbled.

-*-

Sorting out the new order of things was a problem. Rope was no good, Gollum could not abide the touch of anything elvish. Gimli then wanted the rope attached to a loop of other cloth cut from clothing, but Faramir called that impractical -- Gollum would bite through -- so it was uneasy watches.

Later that night, Frodo followed Faramir on watch. "I'm glad you didn't aim to kill," he told him. "Gollum wants to be good to me. I want to be good to him. He will hold to his promise for a while, I think. I know his pain, I want the pain for both of us to be gone."

"Don't be too trusting," Faramir admonished.

"He won't leave me behind," Frodo answered. "So guard me. Don't make him angry being cruel."

In the morning Faramir fetched his arrow for mending, the shaft had cracked. It also turned out that Lembas was no good, so they would be spending more time hunting.

-*-

They stayed on the east bank, travelling south toward Ithilien, as far away from the Black Gate as possible. Gollum said he knew a way in, which seemed to be Morgul Vale. Gimli was right. Having the creature in the party slowed them down even more than the rocks, for he was always under guard. Faramir and Gimli always found a place that was somehow enclosed when they slept.

Once they were out of the rocks, Sam got to use his pans again, and got used to Gollum eating his meat raw. A few times, when they were close to the river, Gollum was allowed to show hinself trustworthy. They let him go for short times unguarded, to caught fish. Frodo stood so we was in view as he watched from the bank, and Gollum always returned.

-*-

As they walked through northern Ithilien, Faramir's eyes ranged wide, catching familiar landscapes.

"Don't be so eager to meet your people," Gimli told him. "Should you not have gone home by the fastest route, in their expectation?"

"Yes, but I would say I would return as soon as may be."

"Huh. Better if Aragorn were here."

"He's needed West." The words were said with surprising heat. Faramir would have no one question his dream's orders.

"Better the Elf, then," Gimli growled, "than your young foolishness."

He pointedly ignored the challenge, the better to appreciate the humor of a dwarf speaking well of an elf. "Do you miss your friend, Master Dwarf?"

"You wished to go West as well," Gimli kept to his original complaint, speaking so the others could not hear. "You should have. Legolas would do well enough in these trees, and he would have killed that footpad quick enough." He gestured at Gollum. " _That_ is a mistake we have yet to pay for, mark my words."

"He would be challenged, likewise so would you or Aragorn."

"Only if seen. You -- " He spent a long time pacing, choosing his words, and picked a different tact. "You are homesick, looking for news. When you left Gondor, war was on her borders. You have never been gone so long."

"It matters not. Any we meet -- I am not expecting that -- I could order. There are only two who could order me, and my father would not go beyond the Pelennor."

_And the other? You are the younger brother._

=== end chapter ===


	9. Rohan Wakes

Less than a day after Waema found Aragorn on the plains, the two approached the small village of Bryholt, which was the headquarters for this section of the Eastfold. Waema's horse was cross for having had to bear the burden of two men and they dismounted a distance from the walls. The scout had been courteous but closed-mouthed during the ride, and Aragorn had kept his silence.  
  
Waema went immediately to report, apologizing for his delay and the stranger's presence. But Gede stared intently at Aragorn when he was introduced as "Thorongil, returned," for Gede was old enough to have seen Thorongil in his youth, and he took this unexpected happening as a long-awaited sign. After a few curt questions, Gede thanked Waema and sent him away and then brought Aragorn to the healer to have his forearm cleaned and stitched.  
  
Gede soon promised Aragorn a horse and an escort to Edoras: Gede himself would ride with him, for Gede's opinion of the state of the court at Edoras was the same as Faramir's, and he approved of the counsel Aragorn would give. "Too long has Grima's way prevailed there, and none may speak against him. I took the post here at Bryholt to get myself away from the stench of it. I pray Theoden King will pay heed to your words."  
  
Before they left, Aragorn asked if there was another scout going toward the forest, for he had been forced to leave a companion unburied. Gede gave the order to have it done, and Aragorn told the landmarks and the signs he had made to lead back where he had left Legolas' body. The broken bow he gave to Gede's wife for safe-keeping.  
  
-*-  
  
  
As Aragorn and Gede rode west, they received news from a messenger riding east of the battle at the Fords of Isen and the death of Prince Theodred. "I am too late," Aragorn said, and they urged their horses to a faster pace. Gede cursed and wept. Later they heard rumor that Gede believed, that Grima had connived to have Eomer imprisoned. "That snake would call himself 'King' if he dared."  
  
On the morning of their third day they arrived at Edoras and brazened their way toward the Golden Hall. The king was with a wizard, the guards told Gede, to Aragorn's great worry. He went with all speed, he said, to the King's defense, and would not be restrained. His words about _danger to Theoden_ made them fear as well, so it was Aragorn and Gede at the head and being flanked by a growing crowd of guards.  
  
But they stopped cold at the base of the steps. At the top of those wide stone steps a powerful figure, robes and long beard white in the bright sunlight, had been speaking to Theoden, before the sight of the crowd had interrupted them.  
  
Gede and the guards were surprised to see the King outdoors, looking no longer as bent and ill as they had last seen him, and they stared amongst themselves in confusion.  
  
Aragorn saw only the white-robed wizard, white with a light that was more than sunlight, which obscured his face. Aragorn's fury was great. Anduril sang as he drew it from his scabbard. " _Murderer!_ " he screamed. He stopped on the third step, unsure of what to do. He could feel no spell, but he wanted to give himself room to maneuver if an attack came.  
  
The wizard moved to the edge of the top step and, behind him, King Theoden stood. On either side were a young man and women, both had long blond hair, that must be Eowyn and Eomer. He could see no one fitting the description of Grima. "Theoden King, hear me. I am Thorongil, you know me." After a pause, the king nodded. "I once headed your father's guard," Aragorn continued. "I come here, too late I fear, to warn you of great peril." Aragorn gazed again at the wizard, but he did not advance. "You order the Prince's death, and then come here yourself! Have you no shame?" Eomer made an angry motion, but was held back by Theoden. "Saruman!"  
  
The wizard only laughed, a puzzling, comforting sound, and Aragorn was beside himself, wondering what he could do. Gede had his sword drawn and was standing beside him, but all else was not as it should be, and stopped. The wizard stood between them and the king, and he laughed.  
  
"Is that who you think I am? Then I will forgive your attempt to kill me, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Isildur's heir." He smiled broadly and began to descend the steps, coming closer. "I am glad to find you here. You make my job easier."  
  
Thinking attack was imminent, Aragorn ran up the stairs, closing the distance between them, meaning to strike the white-robed wizard down, but when there was only two broad steps between then and he could see the face clear, he halted and lowered his sword.  
  
"Thorongil!" Gede said in alarm, holding his weapon still at guard.  
  
"It cannot be," Aragorn whispered. "Gandalf?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
" _What?_ "  
  
Blinking in shock, Aragorn turned to Gede, motioning calm. "When your guards said 'wizard,' I assumed it to be Saruman. This is Gandalf, who I thought dead. He is friend to us."  
  
"He called you another name."  
  
"Aragorn. My true name. I have many names."  
  
"Come up, my two friends," Gandalf said cheerfully. "Let us untie this confusion in better comfort." He looked at Gede, who was still unconvinced. "What is your name?"  
  
Gede only stared back.  
  
" 'Gede'," Aragorn supplied, also staring. "You're dead," he said quietly. "I saw you die."  
  
"You saw me fall. That is not the same thing. Forgive me, now is not the time. We have much to do."  
  
Having found Theoden safe and apparently cured, Aragorn's earlier fear returned full force. "Faramir went east with Frodo, Sam and Gimli," he told Gandalf, but Eowyn heard. "Legolas is killed. We were attacked by orcs." His voice became urgent. "They took Merry and Pippin! For questioning. They know all, near enough! When Saruman questions them -- "  
  
"Peace, Aragorn. They escaped, they are safe, and their secret." Gandalf raised his hand. "I know not how. The report was second hand."  
  
Aragorn could scarce put words together. To hear the small ones were safe was almost more of a surprise than finding Gandalf alive. He was a wizard, after all. But hobbits escaping orcs! "The report can be trusted?"  
  
"Reliable, yes." Gandalf's eyes twinkled, despite the grief for Legolas. When he had seen Aragorn on the steps with no others from the Fellowship, he had feared many more had been lost. "And the news was of hobbits, plural, so unless there was somehow a search party out from the Shire and Bilbo led them down from Rivendell, all our hobbits are accounted for. Hopefully we can collect them soon. They have done good work."  
  
Two more seats were brought up, and Gandalf continued his council, now (and with great relief) letting Aragorn put forth his thoughts. Gede was soon echoing Eomer's opinions. Theoden found it well to have Gandalf's words supported by an old and trusted source. Gandalf was relieved to have Aragorn's help in the coming battles. It had been much for him, alone, to gain entrance to the hall, break Grima's power and cure the King, all the while not knowing how the quest had faired.  
  
As the council progressed Aragorn looked at Eowyn, and saw the reasons why Faramir was drawn to her, and she stared often at him, for he had spoken Faramir's name. Being a woman she sat slightly apart and spoke only when directly addressed, but he could see how both Theoden and her brother relied on her. Eomer, especially, would look to Eowyn for verification of his stronger statements, his anger long held back and now said plainly. He was sure of his conclusions ... but he did not yet know whether he would go too far and lose their uncle's trust, so newly rewon. Her breath caught sharply when Faramir was again mentioned.  
  
Once the battle plans were finished, Aragorn and Gandalf spoke privately a while longer of all else that had happened since the flight from Moria, of Faramir's group heading east and what little further help they could give, drawing Sauron's eyes outward.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Before they left Edoras to ride to the relief of the Fords of Isen, Aragorn gave Eowyn Faramir's greeting, and said, "I hope you will pray for him, lady, as I know my lady prays for me."  
  
That time Eowyn stayed silent, but six days later when they met in Dunharrow and he spoke that he would enter the Paths of the Dead she held to him and begged him not to go, for it was to her that if Aragorn would throw away his life then Faramir must be dead also. "We do not fight for ourselves, Eowyn," he said in a voice that could give no comfort. "We fight for our homes, our loved ones and the dreams of others." He put her hand on her sword hilt. "You are warrior enough to know that peace cannot be won without death."  
  
"Will you not let me ride with you?"  
  
"You know I can not. Your place is here."  
  
He left her weeping bitter tears as he rode with his countrymen into shadow. Eowyn, leader of her people in refuge, was past despair. Where once she had lived day to day in hope of Faramir's returning, now she could see only death. How petty her fears of Grima's hands on her now seemed. Dear Theodred was dead. The Prince who had been as if older brother to her and Eomer all the days she could remember was ambushed and killed, targeted because he hampered Grima and Saruman's designs. He was buried in the blood-soaked ground of his dying. Eomer had been imprisoned, Grima's doing, his very life in doubt. Gandalf had broken the evil counselor's spell, but now all she loved would be lost to war. The king and her brother had survived battle in Helm's deep, but they would ride again to certain death in Gondor. And she must stay in prison, here, with the cripples, old and infants, portioning out the grain and tending to petty squabbles, sentenced to listen with stone face at the news of each disaster as death came ever closer.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Those that gathered in front of the door were all from the north. Aragorn was with his kinsmen from the north. Although Gede had survived the battle at Helm's Deep and had ridden with Aragorn from there to Isengard and then to Dunharrow he remained below, and with the other Rohirrim he prepared to ride to the rescue of Minas Tirith. Although he spoke no word, he seemed to share Eowyn's horror and dismay at their intended road. "I have been honored, Thorongil, to have been your guide at your return to our lands. Now you will leave us, and I will return to my own eored to do battle."  
  
They rode to the door. Halbarad was beside him, holding not a spear, but the furled banner that Arwen's hand had made. Aragorn looked at the black cloth, remembered the hordes of Darkness the Palantir had shown him, remembered the struggle of his mind against Sauron's - _after so many years and generations of struggle, I have met the Dark Lord, claimed power I do not posses, challenged him, and will spend all my strength to race to a battle I cannot win._ She made that banner in hope. _My lady, what have I done to you, if I go to my death? Why did I believe it could be otherwise? Why did I ask you to think I might be King? The tree is dead, the line is ended. Isildur died for his wrong; now I must die to right it._  
  
In his mind came her answer, what she had said in Imladris the day the company left Rivendell and in his dreams thereafter. _You are my life. If you die, so shall I die, as did Luthien. If father sends me West, I would die before the ship landed and join you, for I have chosen._ But she had said further: _Hear me: You shall have victory, and me, on this earth. I have seen it._  
  
They reached the door. _Is there hope at the end of this path?_ Aragorn asked himself. _Hope for the world, there must be._  
  
-*-  
  
  
Now that the Grey Company was gone and the day growing older, the people stirred from their tents and booths, attending to what little they could find to distract themselves from their coming fate. Dully, Eowyn prepared for her tasks, meaningless though they seemed. After all the families had been settled and the food organized, only trifles remained. Igil met her outside her door, took her wrist with his good hand and marched her back inside with the faintest limp. "What are you at?" he demanded hotly.  
  
"Lord Igil?" He was her chief aid here in Dunharrow. He was not one of the men who would ride away to battle. He had been a warrior once, proud and fearless. It was not an enemy who had crippled him. Rather he had been felled by a seizure ten years before and had struggled long to incomplete healing, bitter at his own body's treason.  
  
"Your face, _Lady_ ," he spat the word. "You may not show that face to the children. There will be panic!"  
  
Eowyn blinked at him, shaking free her hand. _No one should speak to the grandfathers,_ she thought, _who can not pretend there is a reason to keep order. No one should speak to the mothers who believes there will be no tomorrow. No one may say to the children they will soon join their fathers and brothers in death._  
  
Igil stared long at her, not liking what he saw. "Stay then," he said. "I'll handle the rounds this day." He slammed the door behind him.  
  
The door had no lock: still she was imprisoned. Her duty now was to lie and pretend, and she had failed. What was asked of her was beyond her strength; sword she could wield, but the men did not want her.  
  
=== end chapter ===  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names Waema, Gede, Igil, and Bryholt are non-canonical.


	10. A Meeting in Henneth Annun

Gimli did not like Faramir's decision, and only agreed because of the promise of provisions. Where before he had accepted Faramir as leader in Aragorn's stead, he made it wordlessly clear that his acceptance was now conditional. Gimli could and would overrule Faramir if he thought him straying too far from what Elrond and Aragorn had ordered. The realization gave Faramir pause, but still he declined Gimli's advice and they made ready to visit the hidden post.  
  
They left Frodo and Sam to guard Gollum. Gimli waited until they were out of hearing of the hobbits before saying, "This could go bad. I have only agreed because we need the food. If anything goes wrong, we leave the best we can to come back here, and wait no more than an hour."  
  
"So we should decide now what path we should take." They then discussed possible paths and signs they should leave to help whoever was separated rejoin with the others.  
  
-*-  
  
  
As Faramir expected, Henneth Annun was empty. But many men were there recently, and would soon return although no one was left on guard: the ember pot at the door was warm and ready. There was more gear along the walls than would be normal for patrols he noted. _It must be a full-fledged attack._ Faramir kindled a pair of torches and handed one to Gimli.  
  
"Food first!" the dwarf insisted, and stuffed his pack and Faramir's with provisions and also took more skins for water, remembering Gollum's talk about dust. When Faramir pulled a parchment out of the map chest Gimli snatched it and stuffed with the food and tried to pressure Faramir to hurry. But Faramir unconsciously delayed, for he had seen his brother's pack among those stored against the rough cave wall. He pulled out Galadriel's book that had been her gift to him from his pack and put it in the chest. "This is a safer place for something so beautiful," he said, then continued looking through the maps. "Did you see rope? Should we take more?"  
  
"I think we should leave now!"  
  
-*-  
  
  
Boromir strode down the cut rock path in single file with his men. The attack had gone well: many of the cursed Haraddim killed and there were few casualties in the company. _So the Enemy had made a small and partial payment for driving us out of Ithilien._ The defeat at Osgiliath still festered. But something nagged at him at the edge of his awareness. Something was different or wrong. He slowed his pace.  
  
Then Mablung, the first man in, backed up suddenly, motioning silence. "Torches!" he whispered to Boromir. "Did we not leave it dark?" Boromir gave swift orders to the men, and he waited for as many as the entrance could hold to arrive before they entered, swords drawn.  
  
-*-  
  
  
There was a sudden sound. Faramir turned.  
  
"You delayed us too long!" Gimli hissed, his voice angry.  
  
"Who goes there?" A strong voice boomed into the cave. Faramir recognized it as his brother's.  
  
Gimli pulled on his pack and pulled out his ax and strode towards the spreading knot of men before the doorway which was the sole entrance.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Boromir opened his mouth, but "Boromir!" his brother called, stealing his voice. He held his torch so his face was recognized. Again, he spoke to the Rangers standing behind his brother, "He has my leave to be here!" and again, as the dwarf threaded his way out, "Let him pass!" And that command was passed up the path through the still returning men and the dwarf dodged his way out.  
  
It made no sense, of course, and so the men would whisper among themselves late in the evening. But Faramir did not move to leave. His voice and the commanding tone of that voice was also known. If his presence was anything legitimate it would have been glad greetings and ritual words rather than loud orders and confusion. But Faramir's commands had come too fast for thought, and Boromir had let be. Faramir's commands still held authority here, at least in the wishes of the men. He had been captain of these men for years, against Boromir's few months.  
  
As the seconds bled out,  Faramir stood still as a shadow, eyes locked on his.  
  
Boromir's thoughts raced. _The dwarf is probably beyond capture now, and the possibility becomes less with each passing moment._ The only choice he gave him was to kill them and never know, or give him trust where he showed no reason why he should. _Brother! How could it be that I am your enemy? Never._  
  
There was a dark reason possible for Faramir's actions. _Has he been suborned? Is there any secret or threat another can hold over him?_ Boromir reviewed the possibilities, and put them cautiously aside. _If another controls him by sorcery, he would be promising love, not threatening blood. He hurts to do this, to have to do this. His heart is breaking, but not broken! His will is free. How can I refuse him?_  
  
Boromir cautiously put down his gear, though it was hard to keep his hands from shaking. Faramir walked to stand before him, hands carefully in sight, away from his sheathed sword.  
  
"Tell me," Boromir growled, keeping his voice low.  
  
"Are all here?" Faramir countered, his voice the same. "Did any follow? Call them back and I'll speak. Otherwise you'll have nothing!"  
  
"Faramir!"  
  
"I am not the Enemy, but you help his cause if this noise draws his attention. Stand down!"  
  
Looking close, Boromir could see that the face that said these impossible words was drawn: changed and haunted. In his eyes was a caldron of emotions: fear, anger, and longing. "As you will," he said at length.  
  
His brother's guard did not go down. "Call them in!"  
  
After a tense moment, he turned and gave the order to the Anborn to take roll, then pulled his brother further down to greater privacy.  
  
  
"What is the Broken Sword and what has it to do with Gondor, and why does it send you to Ithilien and not Minas Tirith!"  
  
"I was coming home, but we lost Mithrandir -- " Faramir began.  
  
"Mithrandir?"  
  
"He would have done this errand, but he was killed. So I took it."  
  
"You, to do a wizard's work?"  
  
"And the dwarf. One part of the work." Faramir took a deep breath. "The 'sword that was broken' is a man. It is Thorongil!" Boromir's eyes widened. "He will come to help if he can," he continued. "Father will be unhappy to hear that, so it would be best for you if you don't say. Thorongil had another part of Mithrandir's task, as well as his own work, and news will be sent by Celeborn for what rest, and our Alliance less strong that this and every other errand -- none must be hindered! Our fate is balanced on the knife's edge. Saruman is not only lost but turned enemy! He will attack Rohan at the rear -- "  
  
Boromir hissed.  
  
Faramir pushed the warning deeper. "If Thorongil comes not in time, it might even now be happening. And what help we hoped for from Rohan will come not, but attack East and West."  
  
"Where is Thorongil now?"  
  
"In Rohan he is well remembered, so he went there. He will make Theoden listen and maybe they can stop Saruman."  
  
"And you are here, on the edge of Mordor!"  
  
He stepped back. "I am delaying too long. If I do not rejoin the others, they will lose me."  
  
" _They_? There are more?" Boromir pulled him back. "I should hold you and make them come back for you."  
  
"They will not come, and their errand will be more difficult and will perhaps fail without me."  
  
"But if they run as you say they run, how can you hope to catch them?"  
  
"I must go soon if I go at all. Please, I must."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Faramir shook the hand off his arm. "Thorongil can tell you, but I am not allowed."  
  
"You speak, brother. Yet you explain nothing."  
  
"Then accept, and let me go." He turned and walked back down the center of the cave, bending to take up his pack. Boromir moved fast to block him. "Stand aside or put me in chains," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "I will say no more." The threat of blood was back.  
  
Silently, Boromir pleaded for his brother to trust him, for Faramir to show reason, any reason at all, for Boromir to trust him. _He will be gone, and it will be me who must deal with Father!_ He stepped back in defeat. "When you are done, you will come home?"  
  
"This first, then yes."  
  
And that was no promise at all, Boromir knew, for injury or death or other barrier would void it. He can't promise and Boromir had to talk on the edges to stay within his orders, and all his questions bound. He was left to take, or do what his heart would not allow. Too many eyes watched them. "Let me walk you out."  
  
Faramir nodded.  
  
-*-  
  
  
They walked unfollowed some distance beyond the hewn stone path. At the entrance there were scattered men, trying to catch Faramir's attention, but he would not look at faces. Rather he stayed with Boromir. Boromir motioned the watch to stay and waved the few others inside.  
  
They were soon out of range of all but a horn's call, which would not be used else the Enemy find the post's location. Boromir's thoughts ran frantically back and forth, and Faramir seemed to be grateful of the silence, and his company.  
  
Another hundred steps and Faramir stopped. One hand fisted and relaxed. "You should go back, now. I must go faster, I can take you no further." His face softened. "When you cross back over the river, will you send greetings to my lady?" Boromir stared in surprise. Faramir tried to explain. "Lady of Eowyn of Rohan. We pledged -- " He could not continue. "This war has torn us apart. I was to return her way."  
  
"Bring your greetings by your own self," Boromir said after a moment. _I can hold him now, make any order! He is as vulnerable now as I was at the door._ He stopped his brother, who then turned at the touch to look at him in puzzlement.  
  
Before, Boromir thought it had been honor that held his tongue. Rather it was the others who stood nearby. Here there were no witnesses. He could now say what he will, and later withhold as he wished. "What treason have you made me party to?"  
  
Faramir's answering stare was fierce. "The will of the Valar is not subject to Denethor's approval."  
  
"Father will be displeased?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Would I? Is that why you keep your counsel?" If he forced him to surrender it would break him. Why won't he tell? He had the right to know, he knew Gondor's condition much better, despite what Faramir might know of Rohan. He had been gone too long. What could he make of this? It was his only chance.  
  
"I beg you, let me go."  
  
"Let me take this burden!"  
  
"It is for me alone."  
  
Faramir tried to back away, but Boromir reached forward to hold his arm. "You have found a future you turn from. All I have ever seen is the safety of my people, my city. If what you do is for that, it's what I want. If there is hope -- whatever target you have found, _my_ arm is stronger, Faramir! I will strike deeper."  
  
"Where there is life, I will hope. Has not hope brought you to me?"  
  
Boromir's face became eager, as if he thought Faramir would agree, battle lust rising. "Brother, give me this! The danger I care not, it is a gift! It must be, or you would not act so. Let me hurt him! It has been my whole life! I _am_ the better warrior! Better able to strike and return home. I have, and ever shall be. You know this is not idle boast."  
  
-*-  
  
  
There was a pause of many breaths. For the first time, Faramir was unsure. _If I do not give, will he try to take?_ He remembered the promise he made to Aragorn. _I cannot resist Boromir. I must convince him not to make that choice. It took me long to accept Elrond's decision, and this long journey to confirm his wisdom. Could it be possible for Boromir to take this course? It would be folly to even consider it._ "My path is dark, yet it is _mine_."  
  
"Brother, please -- "  
  
"There is not time enough to tell you all you'd need to know. I cannot tell you how to find them, they would run from you, they would run from me if you were with me, if you do not return soon your men will search and all the noise will alert the Dark Lord something happens here and we will find our entrance blocked. I could not consent, even if I wished."  
  
"I could force you."  
  
"No." He could tell by his voice he wouldn't.  
  
He grabbed him in a swift embrace, then his hands were on his shoulders, eyes bright as they looked into his. "Into Mordor? I will never see you again. Tell me you will come home!"  
  
Faramir swallowed, placing his hands the same. "Somehow." It was a weak and uncertain promise. _It is too much time gone._ "Give me your love and your trust to sustain me. Let me go, remember me well."  
  
Awkwardly, his dropped is arms. "As you shall think on me."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Faramir leaned forward to kiss his forehead in farewell, then Boromir did the same, and stepped backwards.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Boromir watched him as he climbed up the steep hillside. At the top of the ridge Faramir looked down, and Boromir did not know if he looked to see him once again, or looked to be sure he did not follow. Across the space between Boromir lifted an arm out and palm outwards in salute. Faramir echoed the gesture, then turned and was gone.-  
  
  
He re-entered Henneth Annun alone.  
  
"Where -- " the ranger stopped his question. "My lord Boromir."  
  
"Mablung. Yes?" He took longer than he should have to answer. Getting control of his voice, no doubt, Boromir observed. Mablung was one of the veterans; ten years in the Ithilien company.  
  
"Captain Faramir?"  
  
"He has continued on his errand."  
  
There were badly concealed sounds of disappointment from those who stood against the walls. Again, Mablung took long to answer. Boromir waited patiently as the man shifted his weight and found his voice. "We thought he had returned to his command," he said. "We were planning him a welcome."  
  
"And me a farewell toast? Are you so eager to be rid of me?"  
  
"No, sir! No."  
  
Boromir gave a short, relieved laugh, and pushed the smile up into his eyes. "That is a comfort." He then included the others who waited in his bantering, and gently defused the disappointment he could well understand. When Faramir had left he had not looked at any of the others, even as Boromir was taking a mental roll, making sure all were accounted for. The men had refused to see that, they had refused to see that Faramir had brought his pack with him. In all the fear they had fought under, so close to the shadow of Mordor, coming back from a victory that would, in the end, change nothing, they wanted what they wanted so deeply. Caught by a surprise they ached to make it joyful. Boromir closely hid his pain and fear. These men knew him well enough to read his emotions. He dared not let them guess.  
  
"He could not tarry," he explained again. "Another hour and we would have missed him. So we will raise a toast in his absence, and wish him well. What have you prepared?"  
  
-*-  
  
  
As soon as Boromir felt he could get away without comment, he snatched up the map chest and brought it with him to a far corner where the rangers knew to leave him alone. _Where are you going, brother? Is it Minas Morgul?_ There was an old map, he knew. ... _Gone._ On the second pass through the papers, though, he noticed a folded cloth at the bottom. Something stiff was inside. He pulled it out and held it closer to the light. _Writing! A letter? No. A poem. I don't understand this._  
  
It was a hand-sized book of about twenty pages, fine vellum and thin wood boards. A deep blue and grey brocade was attached to the boards, that folded back around the book for protection. It was elvish, strange words, ancient writing. He rapidly turned the pages, looking for Faramir's handwriting. Finding no note or letter he paged through again more slowly. _Nothing._ It had nothing to do with anything at all ... except it must belong to Faramir. A treasure left behind in exchange for the map he took. Boromir breathed in deeply and carefully closed the cloth, then took the chest back to its storage place and put the book into his pack.  
  
In the morning he would look again for hidden messages under the sun ... but he knew that was a futile hope. There would be no letter; the book was another mystery. A memory, it must be. _Faramir had traveled through elven lands. A place he will not see again. I will not see ..._  
  
He stopped the thought, and returned to his duties. In his dreams the fears would continue.  
  
-*-  
  
  
It had been a hard, fast trail to follow. Faramir arrived at twilight shaken and ashamed to find himself face to face with Gimli's ax. He raised his hands in surrender. "I am unfollowed, I swear!"  
  
The dwarf looked around and his guard relaxed slightly. Beneath the motions there seemed to be a measure of relief. Gimli had been angered but not surprised when the soldiers of Gondor had arrived. He did not understand how he got out of the post unchallenged and he had walked south a long time to be sure before he doubled back to the hobbits. They had left immediately.  
  
"Thank you for the signs," Faramir said further.  
  
The dwarf spat in response, still furious. "That was at Frodo's insistence." Then the emotion of frustration was added to his voice. "They are a few minutes above. I have set Sam and his knife guarding Gollum. Those three obstinates are on the verge of mutiny! I wanted to push on faster,  they mind no better than cats would. I wish you better luck of them. Follow me."  
  
-*-  
  
  
"Boromir trusted me and let me free, and I treated him like an enemy."  
  
"He was close to that, you acted correctly." Faramir objected, and Gimli laughed. "Did you not see his eyes?"  
  
Faramir covered his face. "I saw his heart break. I saw his honor shattered on the floor, and it was I that tore it from him."  
  
Which only made Gimli grunt. He considered his description of how he had forced his brother's cooperation. "You would have fought?"  
  
"With your curses still ringing in my ears? Yes. It could have been blood and worse. I was Captain of that company for years and many campaigns. Men enough would have come to my side against comrades on my order. At _my_ word, remember, they let you walk free. Boromir should have countermanded that, but being my brother he waited for me to explain."  
  
"I would have killed any who touched me."  
  
"And the blood on my hands. Boromir saw that. He stood down; I have left him in shambles. I could give him little reason to trust and let me go, yet he did so." His voice broke. "Why, why? I knew well enough to avoid this. Can you forgive me?"  
  
"We got better than we deserved."  
  
"Well, I'm glad," Frodo put in forcefully. Faramir and Gimli stared at him. Sam had his knife still out, eyes on Gollum, by his vigilance reminding the creature to "be good". Gimli scolded himself for speaking too freely in front of their enemy companion. Whatever time Faramir chose to pull himself back together enough to resume leadership would be no moment too soon.  
  
"Faramir got to speak with family," Frodo continued. "It's important, I think. Since it turned out well. Word will get back to Aragorn. Won't it be good for him to know?"  
  
"That is true," Faramir said, grateful for his understanding. "It will be also well for Boromir to know to look for Thorongil. Aragorn will need every support."  
  
  
  
Faramir pulled out food. Frodo said, "Your book, Faramir!" The deep blue cloth had always been easy to spot.  
  
"I left it behind, for safety."  
  
=== end chapter ===  
  



	11. Of Oaths

Pippin stared at Denethor's legs, uncomfortable at the Steward's penetrating questions. Gandalf had much to report, Saruman's treachery and events in Rohan. If Gandalf spoke too long on a topic Denethor would suddenly question Pippin on a different matter, and for some reason the esquire stared at him whenever he spoke.  
  
It had been a long hard ride from Rohan, and he had left Merry behind. _No, dolt,_ he scolded himself harshly, _you got taken away for stealing that ... palantir from Gandalf, and you knew you were doing wrong!_ Merry and he had escaped the orcs, woke up the Ents and watched as they made ruin on Isengard. They were quite at a loss about what they should do next when suddenly Gandalf was there and gone again before they could gather wit enough to compose a question. Gandalf had needed Treebeard's help for the battle in the south. There was more time to talk a few days later when Gandalf returned bringing Strider with him ... but not Legolas. _Gimli will shake his ax and have such words to say to him that he thought a knife was weapon enough to have for close in fighting. No, no. I can't start crying again. Lord Denethor cares nothing for elves._  
  
Once they had reached Minas Tirith it had been a longer wait than Gandalf thought proper before Denethor granted audience. And now that they were finally here in Denethor's chamber with an esquire standing ready against the wall to show them out again, Pippin was getting angry. He knew it was foolish and dangerous. These were Big Folk and wizards and he was only a hobbit from a land no one gave mind to, but it seemed to him that Denethor didn't want to look beyond his own back yard and that was irksome.  
  
Denethor didn't care they had worrying news about Faramir. _"Father did not want me to search for Imladris."_ From Denethor's point of view, his younger son had deserted. He didn't seem to care that Faramir did not return directly, except so far as Boromir had had to do more work and put himself into more danger.  
  
_He has Faramir's eyes_ , Pippin thought suddenly. _Father doesn't trust son._ Denethor seemed almost to presume Faramir had gained nothing of worth out of his journey north. Pippin wanted to tell him that wasn't true, but anything he could say was of matters Gandalf had told him not to speak. There were all the strange conversations he'd overheard between Strider and Faramir. They had had arguments, almost, about what Strider needed to do. Faramir didn't expect Denethor to agree. Strider considered his anger a threat.  
  
_Maybe,_ Pippin thought. _What if I could make him less angry? Gandalf told me, "Say nothing of 'Thorongil'; let Aragorn speak his own case." If I can show to Denethor the quest is of worth, that I'm on his side, that would help Strider, wouldn't it?_  
  
Having come to his decision, Pippin waited for his opportunity. Faramir had said Gondor, this city, would be in the most danger. Saruman had attacked in Rohan, and Sauron would take advantage of that. "We are here to fight the Enemy," Pippin said solemnly to the steward, "for it is here he will strike first. Little service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a hobbit, a halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer it, for the defense of the City of Guard."  
  
That got Denethor's notice. He started at him as he laid his small sword at his feet, looking for falsehood.  
  
Pippin stared right back at him, sure of himself. _I am not your enemy._  
  
Denethor traded a look with Gandalf Pippin couldn't understand, as if he had scored a victory, and was in a much better mood. "Show me your sword," he said.  
  
Pippin lifted it up and he examined it, and then the oaths were said, he to the service of Gondor and its Steward, and Denethor to Pippin. After a few more questions, he dismissed them with a final admonition. "Master Holbytla," he said.  
  
"My Lord."  
  
Denethor's eyes hardened with the look of impatience for a joke extended over-long. "Esquire. I expect you to show better manners to my guests."  
  
Pippin stuttered obedience, and almost tripped in his confusion as he left the room.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Once they were out of the building, Pippin expected Gandalf to explain, but his answer was cryptic. "You need to listen with better care, my small friend. Faramir ever spoke the Common Speech as he had in his home. Aragorn changed his speech since coming to the south. Did you not notice?"  
  
Pippin fell into a pout. He had swore an oath _until the end of the world,_ and he meant it, but the Big Folk were making fun of him. "Denethor scolded me," he whispered sourly, wary of the guide that walked before them, taking them to their quarters. "There was no reason. Why did he say I was rude?"  
  
"You addressed him as an equal. Do you rule all the farthings of the Shire and all her inhabitants that you would style yourself a Prince?"  
  
"I didn't."  
  
Gandalf shook his head. "Westron is what the speech of Numenor became in these lands, but hobbits, true to their nature, have turned an important handful of words upside down, and lost other words all together. 'Thou hast' does not mean 'You have'. A servant speaking to his master, a child speaking to his elders, must show proper respect."  
  
Pippin still looked befuddled, but his anger was being replaced by embarrassment. Gandalf spent the rest of the short walk explaining how the language customs were different, North and South.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Pippin's spirits were doubly dampened then, as he looked about the sparsely furnished room. He hadn't had wit enough to notice Faramir's different speech, but he thought he could help? "Are you angry with me, Gandalf?" he finally asked. "I tried not to speak about Strider - Aragorn. I didn't say any of his names."  
  
"You said a great deal else!" Gandalf scolded, not unkindly. "I know not how much of your curiosity Denethor will satisfy. Rather, he will question you. Do not let him use you as a spy upon me!"  
  
"I didn't like what he said against Faramir, his own son! Faramir's dream was important, even if he had no way to prove it came from the Powers. It got him to Rivendell and Strider needed to know. But Denethor ... "  
  
Gandalf silenced him with a warning stare. " -- Now has your oath. Be wary."  
  
Pippin humpfed. "I put him in a better mood, I think."  
  
Gandalf chuckled. "That you did."  
  
-*-  
  
  
It had been a tense maneuver to get the two hundred men of the Ithilien company back across the river, leaving only a few volunteers behind to spy. The whole champaign had been chancy, Boromir knew, and the Enemy would take revenge if he could. The last few scouts would stay only a handful of days longer -- else there could be little hope they could win through to deliver their reports. The battle would soon come to the city, and all men would be needed who could be there. He hoped they would not delay too long, waiting for Faramir's return. He prayed Faramir had an escape route, or some safe place to hide.  
  
He had been expecting trouble from the men because of his silence regarding his brother, but received none. In the talk among the men that stilled to silence when he approached there seemed to have been a consensus reached that Boromir had taken risk on Faramir's behalf, and the men approved of that. If they disapproved that Faramir had not spoken to any of them -- well, that was a matter to be taken up later when Faramir could make an accounting of himself. Boromir was grateful for their support, but it did not lessen his worry.  
  
When he heard word that Mithrandir was in Minas Tirith he went himself to the city to report the conditions of the force guarding the crossing at Osgilath. On a fast horse he arrived in the mid morning of the dawnless day. He went directly to the throne room where Denethor waited, Pippin standing to one side.  
  
He was nearing the end of his report when a figure approached.  
  
"Mithrandir," Boromir said and by this Denethor knew that his son had asked for the wizard's presence. "Faramir said you had died." Pippin stifled a gasp.  
  
Gandalf did not speak until he reached the bottom step. "So he thought. We were separated and I was unable to rejoin him before he crossed over the river. You met him in Ithilien?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Gandalf remained silent. Denethor asked, "Where is he?"  
  
Boromir shook his head, eyes still locked with Gandalf. "East. He took a map from Hennuth Annon and left. He also took food. I do not know the errand."  
  
"He was to return here," Denethor said darkly.  
  
"He was not ready."  
  
"You knew his orders."  
  
Boromir looked away. It was clear that Denethor was angered, but he did not want to say more in front of strangers. It was equally clear that Boromir's purpose was to learn what he could before he had to face his father's displeasure.  
  
"When did you meet him?" Gandalf asked.  
  
"I found him when I and my men returned from a raid. He had a grim-eyed dwarf with him who did not give his name, and he spoke as if there were others waiting outside. This happened a little less than three days ago. If his party was on foot -- " Boromir considered his words carefully. "The map he took was for Morgul Vale. I do not think he could have reached there before this morning."  
  
Gandalf was fearful but he knew also, by the ring he wore, that Sauron did not have the One and the darkness had some other cause. Denethor could read the signs of Gandalf's relief, and so reasoned the risk of the errand, and he questioned again why the company was not brought to the city.  
  
"The Dwarf left as soon as I appeared. He moved -- too fast." Boromir admitted this with difficulty, knowing how absurd it sounded. "He had his hand on his ax and I knew he would have killed anyone that tried to stop him. I know that is not a reason to let a stranger walk free from a hidden post, but Faramir's presence surprised me. He said my name and made no move to leave. The other men waited on my order -- they were as puzzled as I, and frightened by the dwarf, truth be told -- and the words came too slow to my lips, and I left them unsaid. I would not believe that Faramir would betray us, so I let the dwarf go and turned to him for explanation." He turned away, then looked at Gandalf. "He said he had reached Imladris, had words, and was traveling south with you and others, and he had meant to come home, but you were lost in an ambush, a task left undone. He could not tell me yet, but said I would be told. He asked me not to ask questions, but to trust him."  
  
"He should have been brought to me," Denethor said.  
  
"He would not have come," Boromir answered angrily. "Do not tell me I should have put my brother in chains! He is no enemy! I could not have forced him." Struggling to control his voice, Boromir reached into the pocket that had held his maps and brought out a small package, which he unwrapped as he spoke. "This is his." Pippin saw it was Galadriel's book.  
  
"He left it behind for me, and I will put it in his room. He must have felt it too fair a thing to take so far into a land of war." Finally, Boromir looked unblinking into his father's eyes, offering the book as a final plea. "I did not wish to part from him in anger: I do not think he saw how he would return from his task, not having Mithrandir's help." Denethor made no answer.  
  
"May I?" Gandalf reached for the book. Boromir gave it and Gandalf slowly turned the first few pages. "Take good care of this," he said, handing it back. "This writing is older than these walls."  
  
Denethor had watched the exchange coldly. "Leave," he said, and his look included Pippin as well as Gandalf. Boromir carefully folded the book into its cloth as they left.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Thus it happened that Pippin had as close a witness toward the setting of the final defense of Minas Tirith as any spy of Sauron might have wished for, and he was often uncomfortable and had difficulty sleeping, his sleep disturbed.  
  
He had wanted to reconcile Faramir to his father; it soon seemed that the older brother was also in difficulty.  
  
Neither Boromir nor Denethor liked the slow retreat, nor the tension that grew between them.  Pippin was sometimes an unofficial go-between, though neither father nor son would admit that was what the hobbit was doing. For Boromir, who often travelled forth and back toward the outer defense, and spoke at length with the scouts and did not blame the messenger for the message -- Boromir was often of different opinion than his father about what was best to do.  
  
Boromir, being Boromir, would ever do and order as he willed. And Denethor, as ever, would yield to his son, disappearing for long hours of solitude, and the green light flashed from his tower windows, and his mood was grim.  
  
== end chapter ==  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pippin's offer of service to Denethor is a lightly modified quote from RotK, "Minas Tirith". See Appendix F for an explanation of Pippin's "strange speech".


	12. Dernhelm

Merry muttered and counted on his fingers. It was March 12th. It was a starless, moonless night, the black pierced only by small campfires. If he squinted he could just barely see the fire that Dernhelm said was in front of the king's tent. Three days ago the king had said farewell to him ... and for all he knew, Merry was back in Dunharrow, left like so much baggage. _Eighty leagues parted, or eight tents and fifteen trees, it's all the same. I can't stroll up, shake his tent wall, and ask if he'd like a bit of talk. I gave him my oath, and I've disobeyed his command._  
  
Maybe if he hadn't felt so alone, he wouldn't have taken the strange soldier's offer. But Pippin wasn't there to ask what he was doing, Strider wasn't there to look after him, the man said "I am Dernhelm," and said he would take him to follow his king into battle, and Merry had agreed.  
  
They rode with Elfhelm's eored. The others saw but took no official notice. And Dernhelm spoke so infrequently it seemed to Merry he had only his guilty thoughts for company.  
  
Merry had swore himself to the king's service, and King Theoden had called that service worthy. On the edge of war, it gave him comfort to speak. _His son was killed. A hard battle fought and another to come ... I could talk to him of a place far away from that. Does he need me tonight? I wish I could go to him._  
  
Derhelm looked also toward the King's tent, but it seemed his thoughts were back in Dunharrow. He spoke of Strider and the rangers that had ridden into the mountain. "Why would he throw his life away?" he asked as they huddled over their food.  
  
"I don't believe Aragorn is dead," Merry answered. "Despair didn't take him to that path; he was sent. There are forces more than you know battling with us."  
  
"And what of Faramir?" The voice was strained, and Merry could see that Dernhelm would have unsaid the words if he could.  
  
Merry gazed at her silently until his conscience made him look away. "Eowyn, we shouldn't be here."  
  
Shame and fear slowed her words. "I would be no place other. This darkness cannot be bested. We are all for death."  
  
"There is still hope. Gandalf believes that. But we all must do our parts and we are not where we should be." And he worried, for there was no way to return; and he knew he would not return, even if there were a way.  
  
"My place, as your place, is here with our King."  
  
"You were left to lead your people."  
  
She shrugged. "Elfhelm knows me, and allows this. By the time the muster was achieved I had put all in order and others can handle the rest. Lord Igil thought little of my help, but he would have stopped me if he knew. I am sure he sent someone to try to fetch me back once he discovered I was gone."  
  
"But -- "   
  
"No queen has ever ruled the Eorlingas."   
  
"You could be first."   
  
" _No,_ " Her denial was more than not wanting her kin to die before her. "No Ruling Queen." She fell back into Derhelm's voice, soft and disparing. "Should Eomer die, it will be my part to be wife -- " she shuddered, " -- to whatever man of the Mark comes forward to lead the remnants of our people in our fleeing." She would not speak the rest, what would happen -- what she would be asked to do -- if the shadow let them live long enough. Her breath drew in, shuddering. "That is no small matter and I know I have left fear behind me. How could I do other? I have stood so long at his side. How could he leave me so, taking all my family with him?"  
  
-*-  
  
  
The next night when the Pukel-men led the Rohirrim army through the secret path that would avoid the orcs blocking the usual road to the city, Eowyn repeated Merry's words to him, " 'more than we know'," and he could see some part of hope return in her eyes.  
  
"There is hope," Merry agreed, "and the path Aragorn took, like this path, is to surprise and best our enemies, and there is more I cannot tell you."  
  
=== end chapter ===


	13. Crossroads to a Trap

"They are too many," Frodo whispered as the endless army tramped but a little ways below them on the valley floor. He clung to Faramir as if he were a child frightened by loud weather. "They mean to murder your city -- how can we stop them?" Despite his thirst, Faramir felt tears trying to form. The rolling thunder that had ever haunted his dreams had been foresight of this marching horde. The beloved stone walls, the guard that walked atop them, they could not prevail against this attack.  
  
Their small party was no longer in Ithilien. They were three days south from Henneth Annun, and a slow day's fearful creeping eastward into Morgul Vale, the Enemy's land. Only foul life grew here, twisted limb and thorns that tore at their clothing. They did not think how they could prevent being seen.   
  
It became ever harder for Sam and Faramir and Gimli to keep Gollum under guard, to find suitable enclosed places to rest. The creature hissed and groveled and stayed as close to Frodo as the others would let him. Only Frodo would treat him kindly.  
  
Faramir and Gimli were surprised when their guide did not attempt to bolt as the endless army marched by. "I don't trust that lizard," Gimli muttered. "He's up to something."   
  
Faramir agreed. "We must keep close watch."  
  
They went eastward, parallel to the roads marked on the map, but higher up the side of the valley wall. Frodo stumbled oddly when they crept past the ghostly city. There were times Faramir had to carry him, as he had on the pass of Caradhras.   
  
Then they dropped down slightly, to a broken road that showed no sign of current use, but neither was there cover to hide them. The hard stone of the mountain had been hewn to make the path, which soon turned to stairs. When Faramir saw the steepness of the stair and the broken steps he said, "I will go last." The long climb up nearly spent him, for any sound of misstep made him tense, ready to catch those above should they slip and fall. Gimli went first and, as he climbed, would give warning of loose or tilted steps.  
  
When they reached the top of the stair, they rested and took food, though Gollum did not like it. Gimli gave Faramir his share of water, and Faramir was too exhausted to notice. Gollum hurried them on. The winding stair was easier but, when they were done, Gollum insisted to take another rest. Warily, Faramir found an narrow, closed niche and he and Sam and Frodo sat together against the wall, while Gimli took watch at the opening, ten feet up, and Gollum's place was the furthest in.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Sam waited for Frodo to fall asleep, then he looked up to Faramir, whose eyes were open, and he seemed lost in memory. He inched closer and said quietly, "Sir, I'm worried about water." Only two of their six skins had water, both half empty, and Sam's was smaller than the one Faramir carried.  
  
"We'll have to search. We are above the poisoned city now."  
  
"And food?"  
  
"It will be enough."  
  
"But sir -- "  
  
"We'll get the job done." He breathed deeply, relieved to finally lose his burden of secrecy. "That's all we can do. I'm sorry, I'm not Gandalf. I don't know if even he knew how he would leave."  
  
Sam shook, he did not want to believe it. "But why would Elrond -- " He could not finish the question: _Why would Elrond send Frodo to die?_  
  
"This is not something anyone could ask another to do. That is why Frodo had to put himself forward."  
  
 _No!_ , Sam cried silently. Frodo couldn't die. _I don't want to die._ Trying to control his panic, he saw that Faramir's thoughts were more than sad; he had already accepted what Sam was trying to deny. "You're thinking on Eowyn."  
  
Faramir nodded. "I am wondering why."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"I would like to see the sun again." All that he had been able to see since the crossroads had been painted in ghostly grey. "What time of day is it, I wonder, back home? I promised her I would return, and now she will wait unanswered, and will she have naught of me but pain and regret? I tried not to speak, but we were drawn to each other. It was strong, as the dream was, from the start. She was a beautiful woman, trapped by her honor into dark circumstance. I vowed to help her solve it. Aragorn has proof now; mayhap he was able to awaken King Theoden. I think I looked at her because she was my last chance."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"The dream sent me to die a soldier's death: I, who do not love the sword, but rather love what it protects. I could have turned aside, and let another take my place, and she tempted me to that. Wife, children, home -- How could I know they were not for me? I know not if she would have given me what I ache for. I knew her for too short a time."  
  
"Rosie -- " Sam began. It was difficult. "I've known Rosie a long time."  
  
"O, Sam." Faramir saw this was a pain much greater than his. With a last stab of guilt, he let his wishes go. "Why have you been silent?"  
  
"It wasn't our time yet," he said. "I looked, and I think I saw her looking back, if you get my meaning, sir, but this with Mr. Frodo, I had to finish first. And he wouldn't've heard of me coming if he'd known. And now she'll never know. No one will know."  
  
Faramir held him close in the bitter darkness, searching for any scrap of comfort he might offer. "Yes she will," he said at last.  
  
"How can she?"  
  
"You've been gone many months now. If you were looking at her I don't think she is the type to say 'fi!' on you. Wouldn't she worry and ask Gaffer?"  
  
"Gaffer doesn't know!"  
  
"Hush, you'll wake Frodo." With a struggle, Sam composed himself. "When we are done, Elrond will know," Faramir continued. "And he will go to your Gaffer and say 'I'm sorry, Sam won't be coming home' and he'll answer 'Rosie should be here' and they will know all Elrond can tell them. He may, at first, know only," Faramir's voice dropped further, "the ... weapon ... has been destroyed and they may hope for a time. But when we do not return -- " Faramir closed his eyes. He could not see so far as that. "They will know." He found also his own heart comforted, for he knew that what Elrond would do for Gaffer, he would also see was done for the others who waited in Gondor. Father, brother, and, yes, Eowyn would know. Likewise, Gimli's family.   
  
Sam wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I wish I'd left a letter in your book."  
  
Faramir looked away. "I had considered that. I feared that in the writing we would lose our resolve. Nor did we have pen or ink."  
  
"Frodo'd've been put in a state, that is sure. Ah, it can't be helped, can it? We shall do our duty, they'll be safe and it's all we can ask for, now."  
  
Faramir did not answer and they, at last, fell asleep.   
  
-*-  
  
  
A struggle and curses awakened them. Gimli was holding Gollum down just outside the opening. He hauled him up, dragged him in and pinned him against the mountain side. "Where were you going?"   
  
"Gimli?" Faramir asked.  
  
He held Gollum fast and answered without turning his head. "I caught him trying to sneak away. Hold him."  
  
Faramir held one arm and Frodo the other. One hand on Gollum's chest, Gimli quickly pulled out his knife and held the point before Gollum's eyes. "I said, where were you going?"  
  
Gollum turned his head aside. Gimli roughly turned it back. Gollum spat, saying, "Filthy dwarvsses. Ssshe will -- " He cut the threat short, but Gimli understood the words.   
  
"Oh, 'She,' is it?" he demanded. " 'She' who?"  
  
"Smeagol, please," Frodo pleaded, but Gollum wouldn't look at him. "Don't play tricks. This is serious."  
  
 _"Useless" would have been a better way to put it,_ Gimli grumbled inwardly. No way to make him tell, no way to be sure of anything he said, no way to control him if he let go, this noise could already be doing what he was setting out to do. Frodo kept trying and the creature wouldn't take what was offered. He was angry, not begging. _Guilty._  
  
"Who is 'she', lizard?" Gimli asked, pressing harder on his chest. "What will she do to us?"  
  
"Ssss ... kill you -- "  
  
"You won't see it," he answered as the blade went in.  
  
Faramir held fast, but Frodo let go and jumped back, so that Gimli had to lunge against the wall to keep Gollum's clawing hands pinned. Vainly, the creature tried to twist free, and then was still.  
  
Sam stared stunned. Frodo vomited what little was in his stomach and then started babbling. Faramir got to him before he started screaming, and he held his hand over his mouth and nose until lack of breath forced him to quiet. "No sound," Faramir said. "You'll alert the guard."  
  
Gimli left Gollum where he lay and turned to Faramir. "Huh."  
  
"And that is that," Faramir answered. "How bad, do you think?"  
  
"We're in a trap," the dwarf said, trying to clean himself. "We can hope it hasn't been sprung yet. There's no point trying to hide that; any patrol that looks in is going to see. We'd best move as fast as we can. I don't see anything else but to go for the tunnel."  
  
Faramir agreed. He gave Frodo and Sam their packs and pushed them out and forward. Frodo would say no word.  
  
== end chapter ==  
  



	14. The Siege of Minas Tirith

Boromir looked down from the battlements to the Gate as the muster marched in, telling numbers to his aide to write for the report to Denethor. There were not enough from the south: Corsairs were threatening. It would be not enough from already wounded Rohan, if they could arrive in time. This would be a bitter fight indeed. Half and more of the city had fled toward the mountain refuges, hoping the lack of threat and hard terrain would protect them in some measure and the war leave them untouched. But when the food ran out, there would be little more to be had. And when the Enemy dogs came hunting, there would be too few swords for defense. The last to enter were armsmen and mounted knights of Dol Amroth, lead by Prince Imrahil, his kinsman.  
  
A council had been called for the new arrivals. The captains of each company would come up to the citadel, after their men were housed in the barracks and houses that had been prepared. There was news from the north for them to be told: the attack of Rohan by Saruman, the death of Theodred. Rohan was coming, but these events would slow their coming and reduce their numbers.  
  
After that grim meeting, Boromir spoke privately to the Prince. "Uncle, did you ever go to battle with Thorongil?"  
  
"A few actions, though not the raid at Umbar. Is he returned?"  
  
"Faramir says -- " He saw Imrahil's reaction to the name, and quickly changed his sentence. "No, Faramir is not here. I met him in Ithilien; he goes towards Mordor on an errand and I am sick with worry! But he told me he found Thorongil in Imladris, that he will attempt to come to our city, that he was the 'broken sword' the dream sent Faramir to find, though I don't understand the vocabulary of prophecy that would match one to the other."  
  
"Thorongil's sword was strong and well-praised," Imrahil agreed with his puzzlement. "It was a gift from King Thengel."  
  
"Faramir said it," he answered. "It was Thorongil with Gandalf that brought news of Saruman's plans to Edoras ... soon enough that they could defeat the traitor wizard, from what news Gandalf brings, but with Theodred dead and so many others -- If they come in time to our aid against the Dark Lord, there will be fewer and it will not be enough, even if they were at full strength! And their lands and our lands to be both overrun from the east. I will be glad that Thorongil has chosen here to die, even as you have. Our plight is hopeless. Yet I will fight to the last."  
  
"You speak more plain than Denethor."  
  
Boromir only shrugged. "We are in private. Therefore if Thorongil come he will tell me Faramir's errand, though I may not like the answer." He turned his head away from Imrahil, not wanting to see his face, nor him to see his. "I think my brother told me not for fear I would forbid. But he seemed to think there was some real hope, regardless of the danger to himself. I could not bring myself to hinder that."  
  
"You think he failed? I can think of nothing that can stop what comes to crush us."  
  
"Mayhap -- Maybe we are lost, we are too close. Maybe what he does will help more distant lands, that Sauron may not reach his hand over all of Middle-earth, that a corner may stay free. Maybe he does what he does for the Halfling's Shire!"  
  
"I will try to take comfort in that, that it cannot be everywhere as dark as it is here." Imrahil at last sat himself down, leaned back against the wall, and his voice was filled with weariness. "I have long known this day would come. I kept hoping to postpone it a few years longer." He thought of his family he was powerless to protect. His sons here with him, or on guard at home; his daughters and grandchildren hiding high in the mountains; his wife four years buried. At least she would not see her children killed. With an effort he pushed aside his fear. "Thorongil, is it? I hope he can come before the gates shut. That would be a reminder of happier times."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Denethor seldom went lower than the fifth circle of his city and asked difficult tasks of his captains. Something had snapped and it was his Heir who stepped up to fill the need, often in ad hoc council with Hurin and others, and this became more so after he returned from over the river. Whatever thoughts Denethor may have had on this growing development, he kept them close. Boromir, as ever, would do as he willed. But whereas before father and son might have had different approaches toward the same purpose -- whether there should be a bold stroke or subtle, or how resources might be allotted -- now their goals were diverging.  
  
After many years of bitter toil the Steward had near reached his brittle limit. He, Ruling Steward, was used to absolute obedience and seemed to be unwilling to accept the sea change of the war, that it was Mordor -- not Gondor -- setting the terms of engagement. It was now Boromir, well practiced in the art of compromise in the pursuit of getting what he wanted from his father, who was the pragmatic voice. He accepted the necessity of retreat, where Denethor was want to hold a scrap of land or a wall for pride's sake, Boromir called it, beyond the point of usefulness. Their roles had reversed. Boromir had chafed in the waiting years, ever prideful, wanting to attack. Now every life was precious, and he begrudged every drop of blood that spilled.  
  
In Council, the contest broke open. There was little news from the East, and all of it bad. Enemy forces were mustering across the river, Osgiliath was threatened, and Rohan was not yet come. Grimly Boromir asked questions of the status of the men there, in preparation for retreat.  
  
"It is time for you to go there," Denethor said to his son. "You will to Osgiliath and hold it at all cost. The river must not be crossed."  
  
All others in the council froze in shock at the order. _At all cost?_  
  
Boromir locked eyes with his father, then looked aside a moment. "We must hold Osgiliath as long as we can," he said in a calm voice, repeating the words he had spoken before Denethor's order, and continued further, as if his father had not spoken. "If it and the Causeway Forts fall before Rohan come, then their sacrifice will be for naught but hollow gratitude. I cherish the risk they take even though the chance of help is slim.  
  
"But this action is mostlike fatal. Who would hold the road open in hope for Rohan will surely die there. Thus we have this hard choice. It must be done, but there will be harder fighting after, to hold our walls when the siege begins. We are all vital to that. Who may we afford to lose?"  
  
Denethor stared at his son, angry at the rebellion, and that he would name his order a death order, even it if was. Into that silence, Cirenor, heir and second son of Tulimen of Ethir stepped forward. Before his death in battle, it had been Tulimen who had membership on the council. "If my Lords accept, I will take out the last relief and lead the defense." He had glanced furtively at Denethor as he spoke. His eyes were now on Boromir, who accepted the offer gratefully. _He knows why I do this._  
  
"Boromir," Denethor said in a voice that demanded obedience.  
  
"No," Boromir answered. "I am needed here, and our Enemy knows my name. To take myself closer to his weapons would be worse than folly, for if my presence becomes known to his general then his army might strike earlier, before their muster is complete, to wage a harder battle at the Causeway. He would seek to take my life, that his battle at the Walls be easier. Send me, and there is less time yet for Rohan to arrive. No."  
  
Boromir turned back to the others and dismissed them; Denethor allowed it. Boromir had caught Cirenor's eye before he left, and motioned him to wait in the outer hall. He stayed long enough to be sure Denethor would not follow and went out to speak to the man who would go to battle in his place.  
  
-*-  
  
  
"Why does he wish your death?" Cirenor hissed, anger masking his fear. They had walked out of the building and the courtyard was empty.  
  
"If the world obey him not, then the world is better dead."  
  
"He is mad."  
  
Boromir could not quite accept that. "He can no longer care, and that makes him seem so. Therefore, as I still care, I must remain. Thank you."  
  
"I will hold the road open as long as I can."  
  
"I do not doubt that. Yet do not postpone retreat over long. We cannot afford to lose all or even half of you."  
  
"Yes, Captain General."  
  
-*-  
  
  
"I do not do this lightly," Boromir said to Imrahil soon afterwards. "You know this. Even now, I would accept his order and do my duty, for it will be hard on those men that a man of rank is not there to lead them, if I am not there. It will be harm, moreover, the rumor that the Steward and Heir battle each other in Council. But I fear what would happen in my absence. I would go if I knew you could shout him down at need."  
  
"Only you can do that, but I fear he will not allow your rebellion much longer. You know well he does not want public spectacle and is loath to use heated words even in private, but you press him too far."  
  
"That matters not. He can not force me any more."  
  
"Have care, Boromir. If you refuse his order once too often he will order the guards to arrest you."  
  
"And I will countermand that order, and it is _I_ they will obey." Imrahil again objected, but Boromir would not take the warning. "This is my inheritance, uncle! All the inheritance I shall ever have. I have foresight enough to know that. And in the end Father and I will have failed, for the city will be ruined and all our people killed, but there won't be suicide and there won't be civil war. I will not allow it."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Cirenor and his men held Osgiliath that day and most of the next, sending the wounded to the Causeway Forts where Gandalf helped with their evacuation back to the city, but Rohan and Thorongil did not come. When the retreat began, the stay at the Forts was merely a pause to regroup. A small number of armsmen stayed on the wall, making themselves appear to be more than they were as if the retreat had not yet begun. They would fight to the death at the breech. These were men who had taken recent hindering wounds or had other reason to believe they would not survive the pressed race back to the city and thought to give the others a longer lead in that race, or would not leave behind a comrade who had chosen to stay.  
  
The city was ready to receive the survivors back for the final defense. As the last groups approached orcs and Southrons ran behind them, harrying and killing. Boromir, Imrahil and Gandalf led sorties to their rescue, and guarded them the last half mile.  
  
"Cirenor?" Boromir asked of Raheor, Cirenor's lieutenant, who led one of the retreating groups.  
  
"Fallen," Raheor answered, motioning backwards on the road. "They were too many, an' we too few."  
  
Boromir spat a curse and helped bring the survivors inside. The gate shut behind them and the Pelennor belonged to the enemy. If Rohan came, it would be for naught.  
  
Imrahil put his hand on the locked gate, imagined he could feel the impacts of the Orcs, soon arriving, that pounded on the other side, calling them out to die. His eyes were black. "Thorongil did not come," he said to Boromir. "It is well you kept that name secret." All now that were in the city, their remaining lives would be counted in days, though the wall be thick and the gate strong. Orc laughter drifted down upon them, from over the high and thick walls.  
  
Of the heads catapulted over the walls, one was Cirenor, and Boromir cursed again, at greater length. He buried him with his own hands, in the company of those of his men that had survived, and the names of all who fell were remembered. The despair that threatened them from all sides and from above -- the Nazgul's cry as their fell beasts circled above -- did not touch Boromir. How could he fear more? He had been in dread since the meeting in Ithilien. "We shall fight every inch," he promised Cirenor's grave. "They have no mercy, and we shall ask for none."  
  
-*-  
  
  
On the second day of the siege Boromir waved Gandalf up to speak with him as he walked the walls. "Father does not like you," he said, wondering how the wizard would react.  
  
"No."  
  
He smiled ironically at the evasion. "He doesn't say the reason, except to say you meddle. Do you see that?" he pointed.  
  
"In front of the gate."  
  
"There's a great number, close together making some mischief. Do you think our catapult could be aimed there and delay their plans?"  
  
"I could go down to ask and bring you a report."  
  
"Yes, please do so." He smiled without humor, and kept his eyes on the enemy movements. "I appreciate your help. I should also dislike you for the danger you put my brother in." He turned his gaze back to the wizard. "I would have him with me."  
  
"We all are in danger," Gandalf reminded him in the same tone.  
  
Boromir turned away again. "At least we would be together."  
  
=== end chapter ===

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names Cirenor, Tulimen, and Raheor are non-canonical.


	15. The Battle of the Pelennor Fields

Attack had menaced the outer wall through the night, harrying the defenders and sapping their strength. High above on the walls -- too high for ladders -- armsmen sent down arrows and fire, and the dead became ground for their fellows to trod upon. There were more orcs than arrows. With the day's approach the Dark Captain directed his forces to breech the gate. The great battering ram was wheeled forward; its housing would not burn.   
  
"It cannot be stopped," Boromir said, and sent orders for the inner defense to be readied. They could hope to mire the host in the archway and take a toll and set off fires and traps as the rest retreated to the second circle. Imrahil saw to that, while Boromir began sending men down off the towers and bastions that guarded the gate when their ammunition was spent.  
  
Outside, the forces massed, fallen bodies thrown backwards to clear the path for the machine. Inside, the space before the doors was not empty. On command, trolls swung the wolf-headed ram forward.  
  
 _Boom._   
  
The door shuddered. The point of Denethor's sword lowered at the sound, then he lifted it again.  
  
"Father, get back!"  
  
"Leave me!" Denethor said the same words to Boromir he had said to Gandalf, to his skittish horse that had near bolted at the smoke and the noise. He stood before the gate that would soon fall, black tabard over steel mail, helmed, sword raised. "Run. Save yourself for an hour, for a moment. Find what hole you can, it won't be deep enough. I will not let them freely enter."   
  
Although Gandalf had counseled the retreat, when Denethor arrived he cursed at the retreating men, putting himself where Gandalf had intended to be, but his horse had turned traitor, and he'd had to dismount. Boromir refused to change his orders and, seeing the other men continue their retreat, turned back to his father -- who would not heed him.  
  
Then Gandalf spoke from behind, astride Shadowfax. "The Dark Captain will not go unchallenged."   
  
"It is my battle," Denethor answered without turning. "I don't want your help," he said to the ringing doors. "I don't need your help."  
  
For the answer to that, Boromir did not speak. Coming from behind, he knocked the sword from his father's hand and dragged him away. Denethor allowed it only so far as to reach cover and then he refused to move further. Boromir stayed with him. A cry pierced the air made by no human throat, another crash, and the gate shuttered a second time.   
  
"This is my rule," Denethor said to his son in a low, angry voice. "This battle cannot be won. The time of my death is mine to choose."  
  
"Lord," Boromir tried to break him out of his inappropriate mood, "the worse battle is yet to come. Our people still need us." Denethor only scowled.   
  
Then there was the third strike of the ram, and the sound of lightning and breaking metal and the iron and steel of the doors fell to the ground in pieces. For a moment the explosion had lighted the circles of the city above them. The sense of evil grew stronger, paralyzing all, and Denethor and Boromir shrank down behind the low wall. The Lord of the Nazgul rode through the arch on his fell steed.   
  
Gandalf had not moved. "You cannot enter here," he said, and the two powers bent their wills and threats against each other.   
  
Yet somewhere in the city, uncaring of the war, a cock crowed. And across the field was the sound of horns. Horns, and more horns. The Nazgul turned and left, pursued by the wizard.  
  
 _Rohan!_ Boromir had thought he would never smile again. Lifting his own horn to his lips, he sounded muster. The armsmen who had left began returning. "Get the horses!" Boromir called. "Imrahil! The Rohirrim come, bring them here! They will be overrun!"  
  
Imrahil echoed Boromir's earlier smile back at him, and a laugh that was dark humor, and called orders to his men. He would be pleased to do battle outside the walls once again, if only for a short respite.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Boromir turned toward his father. The sky's darkness that had been to smother them was breaking. There was a wind from the sea and day would brighten. The Steward and his Heir needed to return to the citadel to see the course of the battle, but Denethor walked back toward the broken gate. Then turned to stare at his son, with the ancient sword on the ground between them. "This is my rule," he repeated. "Would you make contest between us?"  
  
After a moment, Boromir bent his knees and lifted the sword by its hilt, not bowing his head. Denethor reached as if to take the sword from him, but Boromir put his hand on his forearm to move it out of the way and put the sword in the sheath himself. "You, Lord, would choose my death to be a head thrown over a wall? I refuse _that_. My people matter to me, even if you refuse them."  
  
"Fools and cowards, all. Why do you care?"  
  
"My blood and my duty. Even were they the cattle you treat them as, I may not ever choose to abandon them."  
  
-*-  
  
  
As the forces behind the city walls mustered to fight again, the armies that Sauron had sent against Denethor turned towards the Rohirrim. And so, having killed many in the surprise of their first charge, soon they were in pitched battle. King Theoden was the chosen goal of Sauron's war leaders, both living and undead.  
  
The King of the Black Serpent turned to fight even as his troops fell away feeling the approach of an evil darkness. King Theoden threw down the Serpent but Eowyn watched in terror as the dark shadow that was the Witch-King descended, his winged mount screaming, and Snowmane reared in terror and threw Theoden to the ground. Eowyn cried his name at the same time Gandalf called in challenge, and Merry realized there had been a white streak approaching through the shadow even as all others were fleeing.  
  
Eowyn jumped off her skittish horse taking Merry with her and they ran to Theoden. They pulled him away from Snowmane who nearly rolled on top of him. He moaned in pain. Eowyn removed her helm so he would know her, gold hair flashing. "Father, father," she wept.   
  
"Sister-daughter, why are you here?"   
  
"You were riding to your death, Lord," she answered. "How could I not follow you?"   
  
"Help me -- " But he could not stand. He had been injured in the fall, but there was no red foam on his lips. If there were broken ribs, none had punctured his lungs. Again, there was a flash, and Theoden turned his eyes. "The battle will whelm us. Flee, you should not be here."   
  
"I won't leave you."   
  
"I can't safely mount." He felt injuries inside that might bring blood to his lips, if he tried to pull himself up.    
  
Merry looked away from them to see the contest before them. It was the King Nazgul, the Witch-King. He was without the other Nazgul, but his power was greater than it had been on the road to Rivendell. Gandalf upon Shadowfax moved between them and the darkness. He battled his enemy sword to sword, and with each blow of metal on metal power flashed.   
  
"Gandalf will save us," Merry said to Theoden. "See, the Black Rider is no match for him."   
  
"Master Holbytla? You also?" He briefly lifted his head to look. "Get us back."   
  
As they tried to retreat, the Witch-King tried to follow, and Gandalf -- focused on his opponent – barred the way. As Merry watched, there was a flash and the foul winged beast fell, its head cut off, and Gandalf jumped down to get closer, and Shadowfax placed himself between the injured king and the raging contest. The force of their battle was not unnoticed by others on the field. King Theoden's knights and Eomer were riding to his rescue, yet the Witch-King was intent to win his prize.   
  
Gandalf tried to force him back, but he was hindered by those he would shield. The Nazul taunted him, coming a step closer. "Old fool, old Man!" There was another blinding flash, as weapons clashed. "Give me my prey!" the Witch-King mocked, "Know you not that no man may harm me?"  
  
"No man am I," Eowyn answered. She stood and drew her sword as she moved past Shadowfax. The battle was done before Merry could react. The Witch-King was surprised and suddenly fearful at her woman's cry and maiden's hair. He parried her stroke that she cut only cloth, but he left himself open for Gandalf's thrust into gap between crown and mantle. With a shriek he died, empty armor falling next to Eowyn as she swooned and sank to the ground.   
  
Gandalf shoved the fell metal aside, lifting her up and away from the evil. "Mortal child," he said as his light was dimming, his power becoming again veiled, "you should not have come so near!" He laid her next to Theoden as the others arrived.   
  
Theoden moved one hand to touch her, worry adding to his pain, but his eyes searched to find Eomer's face. "Battle has not ended," he told him. "Lift my banner, fight! Then return to me."  
  
"They are sore hurt," Gandalf added. "I will do what I can."  
  
With a last look at both, Eomer remounted his horse, gathered his knights, and rejoined the battle. A few knights stayed back to help Gandalf bring the King and Eowyn into the City and the Healers' care as quickly as they could.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Riding with his knights outwards from the city, Imrahil brought himself close to Eomer. "Well met, and thank you," he said.   
  
"Where is Boromir?"  
  
"Within."  
  
"I expected to meet him on the field."  
  
"So he desired, but he fears what madness his father would order, were he not there to counter. The gates are broken and Denethor would have died then if Boromir had not dragged him aside. All Denethor sees now is defeat and death. There is a contest there; I hope Boromir prevails." Imrahil then looked at the battle. "We are in a desperate situation. Your numbers will not turn this tide. Bring your men into the city -- "  
  
His words failed then, for he saw the ships. _All is lost, then?_ Dark grief threatened his thought. _Is my family dead before me?_  
  
-*-  
  
  
From the citadel battlements, Boromir also saw the ships, black enemy ships arriving from the south. They meant death ... but something within Boromir refused to call it his own. Then the wind changed and he saw a white tree clearly visible against the lead ship's front sail. His heart filled with joy: his city would not fall. "Thorongil," he said. His brother had said nothing about the white tree, but the tree and the broken sword must be signs of the same man. Faramir had told him Thorongil would come; it had to be him.  
  
"The ships, Father, come."  
  
"No." Denethor refused to look.   
  
"It is Thorongil! Faramir told me he would come. Not the enemy, it is rescue."  
  
"No."  
  
"If you will not ride down to meet them, I shall."  
  
-*-  
  
  
The Dark Lord's armies first cheered the black ships; then were confused when they saw Arwen's banner, and fell back as the men from those ships attacked, and fell back as the forces of Rohan pressed them also.  
  
Soon, Aragorn met Eomer on the field, and Eomer greeted him with gladness. Aragorn asked after the King in Rohirric, for he saw that Eomer had charge of Theoden's banner.  
  
"He yet lives, I hope," Eomer answered, but said further, "Prince Imrahil says Boromir directs the City's forces and that Denethor is in a foul mood. Act carefully, Aragorn."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Imrahil saw that Boromir was outside the gate a little ways, and rode close to greet him.  
  
"Uncle!" Boromir called when he saw him. What he saw in Boromir's younger face he knew was also on his own: surprise and relief that the siege was broken, the lands in the south were -- for the moment -- safe, that they had control of the Pelennor again, rescue from North and South, rather than the grim final retreat up to the citadel. "Fair morning! What a day, that it will end hopeful. I must gird myself -- this can be only a short respite. How fare you? How goes the battle?"  
  
"There will be hard fighting yet before this day is done. Not all of the Enemy is in rout and confusion, but they will be thrown down." He came closer. "It _is_ Thonongil."  
  
"Truly?"  
  
"I spoke with him, and he knew me. He asked if I was Prince now, then the battle took back his attention. I saw his banner," he smile grew wider. "It is magical, so bright it shines. Thorongil, yes. But the King's tree?"  
  
"Faramir said naught of that."  
  
"Do you feel hope now? Hope and Fate ride with him, it seems. He came not to die with us here, as you thought. There may yet be victory."  
  
"That would be fair indeed," Boromir agreed.  
  
-*-  
  
  
When the fighting was done, and the last invader slain, Aragorn and Eomer rode together toward the broken gates. A man on a fast horse rode to meet them, out of the late day's shadows. Behind the man Aragorn saw a vision, brief but vivid. The city in gold sunlight, banners and trumpets. The man hailed them in a loud voice.  
  
 _That must be Thorongil,_ Boromir thought as he approached, but he greeted the man he knew first. "Eomer," he said. "Your sister still breathes, but may not last to evening. You should come quickly if you can."  
  
"I may be able to help," Aragorn said.  
  
"Then I bid you also come. Her need is great, Thorongil. My brother told me you would come." Boromir returned his gaze, full aware of the reaction, and not surprised by it. He was right.  _He did not react when I called him "Thorongil", but when I said Faramir's name._  He bowed his head to them both. "I thank you for your rescue. I had feared that my city would fall."

Eomer and Aragorn each gave swift orders to their captains, then rode ahead with Boromir. "Faramir?" Aragorn asked when they were far enough from their officers to speak privately.  
  
"I met him on errand in Ithilien. He asked me give you welcome and I do. He also sent greetings to Lady Eowyn, who lies near death. What of him? He told me you would answer the questions he could not."  
  
"I shall, and soon. Though not here in the open."  
  
Boromir nodded, but continued his report. "Gandalf also asked, and I answered, and he seemed less troubled afterward, although that was five days ago he has not yet returned the courtesy." His mood had been patient despite the non-cooperation, but he wanted the waiting over. "I gave Faramir the help he asked. When we parted my heart ached, and in my dreams since, that I would not see him again."  
  
"My heart is also troubled," Aragorn answered. "Thank you for your help. His errand is dire but necessary. It should have been Gandalf or me, but we had lost Gandalf and I was needed to wake Rohan, and to bring up forces from the South."  
  
"Faramir's report, and Gandalf did not counter this, had you with the ride of the Rohirrim, North of our mountains. There is a tale here needs telling, I think. How are _you_ a broken sword?"  
  
Aragorn put a hand on his sword hilt, but did not draw it. "This was the sword that was broken, Anduril, which is the shards of Narsil, Elendil's sword, reforged. I have the right to bear it." Boromir's breath caught at that name, as his brother's had before him. "Your brother watched it done. His dream summoned me here."  
  
"My lord." Boromir bowed again, unaware of the motion, and continued riding. He made no pause as he led them through the wreckage of the broken gate. Against the will of the Steward, Aragorn entered Minas Tirith.  
  
-*-  
  
  
On the sixth circle, they met Gandalf coming down, and the wizard was glad to see them. Boromir turned aside to another errand. "You should look to Eowyn first," Gandalf said after giving greeting, "and I will return to Theoden."  
  
Aragorn nodded, and asked questions about the wounds as they rode up the final circles. Eomer was mostly silent.  
  
Then Aragorn said to Gandalf, "Boromir follows his brother."   
  
"Yes, another surprise. Honor, having a home, is not easily turned out. Boromir knows the Steward's Oath, even if Faramir did not remind him."  
  
"He has my trust; I would gain his."  
  
"You have it, if you do not give him cause for anger. You and Theoden have rescued his city, and he has been desperate with little help from Denethor."  
  
"Faramir means he need not think further," said Eomer.  
  
"He needs his city safe. He may think to think further after this is done, but, as I have said, the matter of Sauron needs be first. And that outcome will decide the rest. I will stay in the Houses of Healing no longer than I am needed, then I will camp with the other Dunedain outside the walls. Be sure Boromir knows where to find me."  
  
Aragorn soaked a cloth and bathed Eowyn's face, then he took her hand. His brow furled and he called to Gandalf, "You did not speak of Meriadoc, he was with her, I think." He put all his thought on her. "Brave Lady, do not leave us."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Boromir reported to Denethor upon the securing of the field. Denethor gave no answer. Boromir then turned to Pippin. "The northmen are searching the field for your friend, Merridoc," he said. "He disobeyed Theoden also, and rode with Eowyn. No one knew to look for him when they were quickly bringing Theoden and Eowyn to the healers. Thorongil fears for him, for he says if he was near to the Nazgul he would also be in a swoon from the black breath and vulnerable." Pippin shook, but kept his place. "We will hope for the best," Boromir said gently, and left.  
  
== end chapter ==


	16. Aftermath

Long hours later, Aragorn entered the hall. There was a white tree behind the throne shrouded in darkness. Halbarad had carried a white tree in the red sunlight, the white gems gleaming. He had died on the field, orc-arrow through his neck. Nuhael, who had caught the banner before it fell, was nearly hit moments after. Now Pippin wore the tree.  
  
Aragorn forced away his doubts. Trap it might be, but the tree's temptation could be used against Sauron as well. Great was the debt he owed to Elrond and Arwen; heavy was the responsibility he carried, but he did not wish for different sires. _I will keep the Dark Lord's eyes on me, come what may,_ he thought. _Many more will die before this war is done._  
  
Denethor watched his approach coldly. "Ill news," he said, and Pippin closed his eyes. "Thorongil," he said to Aragorn when he stopped before the seat. "Have you found Meriadoc Brandybuck alive?"  
  
"No." Aragorn had claimed the burden to bring this news, but he could find no comforting words. "Elladan has brought his body from the field."  
  
"Go," Denethor said to Pippin.  
  
Aragorn knelt on one knee to catch the hobbit in a quick embrace as he stumbled by. "I'm sorry," he whispered in his ear as he let him go. Then he slowly stood to look at Denethor. "King Theoden and Lady Eowyn still live, though they are both weak."  
  
The silence was not answer, it was contempt.  
  
Aragorn locked eyes with the ruler of Gondor with a heavy heart and stone cold blood. There had been no "thank you" for the breaking of the siege or the safety of the South; there had been no reaction to the names of Theoden or Eowyn. The man before him cared not. The words for Merry and to Pippin were not in any way friendship. Rather they had been a means to wound an enemy.  
  
Denethor looked him up and down, trying to provoke him to speak. He wanted Aragorn, in this throne room, to make his pretender's claim so he could laugh and refuse. _The sons of Arvedui Last King died with him in battle, leaving only daughters; your family can have no closer blood-claim to the throne than Mardil had, and he claimed it not!_  
  
Aragorn, instead, stood waiting.  
  
Denethor could scarce abide the silent accusation. In the dim light he could see not a gray hair on his head, not a whisper's difference from when he last saw him forty years before. Bitter envy clouded his eyes. He felt all his age, but Thorongil -- he could well see -- was still in his prime. What devilry, what powers was he puppet to? Could no one see the truth, would no one listen?  
  
"If your business is done here, go."  
  
"Tomorrow, outside the walls. A council. Boromir will know where." Aragorn turned and left.  
  
-*-  
  
  
"Denethor's mood has not changed," Imrahil said to Eomer in a low voice. They stood at the door of King Theoden's room. "Boromir, as myself and all others here, is honest in his thanks for rescue. Boromir and his father have argued much. Denethor would spend all seeing nothing but death and Boromir counsels prudence. Denethor is even more angry that many have been approaching Boromir alone, putting Heir before Ruler. He will consider it a great betrayal that Boromir personally welcomed Thorongil and brought him into the city."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Two hours later Pippin walked quietly back into the throne room and returned to his place at Denethor's side. "I grieve with you," Denethor said, looking at the hobbit's red eyes. "What have you learned?"  
  
"Merry was supposed to stay in Dunharrow with Eowyn, but she dressed herself as a man and rode into battle, and took Merry with her. Whatever happened, he was close. He was dazed." The first statement was said softly, but with certainty. His voice then began to quiver with pain and doubt and questions that would never be answered. "He must have tried to follow Gandalf as he took Theoden and Eowyn here and Eomer left with the rest of his men, and they rode too fast for him to follow on foot. Elladan found few marks he could read. He could not find his shield. He thinks Merry was trying to walk to the city and was hewn from the back by some fleeing orc, and then took a few more steps and fell; his sword was still in its sheath. He thinks that if he had not been moving he might not have been a target."  
  
"Will they bury him with the Rohirrim dead?"  
  
Pippin's eyes filled again with tears. "Lord Elladan asked your people to embalm the body. They did not think odd of the request, because they think him a 'prince', same as me." He had to cover his face a while before he could continue. "I said his family would want it returned to the Shire after the war is done."  
  
"Fool child," Denethor said softly. Pippin looked down. "You are the only thing that has come from the North that has been any use to me. There will be no 'done' until Sauron has killed us all. Thanks to Mithrandir and his pretender, we have no weapon that can defeat him; we can only hold on as long as might be."  
  
"Yes, Lord," Pippin's eyes remained bleakly downcast.  
  
"I am sorry," Denethor said, after a long moment. "If only for your sake, I will hope that this pause lasts time enough that we might send your friend's body back to his home."  
  
"Yes, Lord. Thank you."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Pippin lay on his cot, face toward the door, eyes open, and did not move.  
  
Gandalf entered. He opened his mouth to speak, then with an awkward motion Pippin did not see, he held the words back. He lit a candle, then walked back to Pippin who had raised himself up to sitting.  
  
"I didn't see him! He was too small to see in the confusion." He paced angrily. "There was no reason for him to have been there! I thought he had more sense." His voice was a mix of hurt and frustrated anger. "Eowyn's presence was no surprise to me. I knew she was at risk. Grima's years of poison had been on her as well as King Theoden, but I had no time and much else before me, and could only hope banishing Grima was enough. After the palantir, I brought you with me for watching. But Meriadoc -- " The voice was bitter sadness, for all that could be said was pointless. There was no way to undo the fatal oversight. "He had the sense to study maps in Rivendell. You both had wit, courtesy and courage enough to wake Fangorn's anger. When I didn't have the sense to realize the fool risk I took in trusting my letter to Barliman, Merry had made his conspiracy and got Frodo and all out to Bree and Strider in the bare nick of time. I thought he would heed his Lord's orders. The fool Brandybuck was too polite to open his mouth and ask for the help he sorely needed when those of higher rank were being tended to. He, too, was worthy! The black breath touched him, he should have been carried."  
  
"I don't," Pippin began. The words were a whisper. "He -- I don't think Merry would want you to blame yourself."  
  
Gandalf paced the small room. "This is war, I cannot have my eyes everywhere. I know this. Aragorn saw the arrow that killed Halbarad. The Pelennor was covered with bodies, and more still being found. But I grieve."  
  
"Boromir thinks Faramir is going to die. Will they die? Lord Denethor says we are all for death. That Sauron has found -- "  
  
Gandalf spun around, his eyes flashing in warning.  
  
Pippin stammered, taking more care of his words. "He said that Sauron has what Frodo had."  
  
With an effort, Gandalf calmed his angry mood. It was dangerous and selfish of him to lose control. He sat next to Pippin and placed the hand that wore Narya over the hobbit's heart. "Sauron does not have it. If he did, I would know, by the powers I have he could and would attack me as soon as he had the means. As long as I am free be assured Frodo still lives."  
  
"Or he is dead, and the treasure not yet in the Enemy's hands."  
  
Gandalf sighed. "Do not fall into despair, Master Took. Denethor is already there. He is capable of much damage, though Boromir does his best to thwart it. You alone will he let near. We need you to be strong!"  
  
== end chapter ==  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from RoTK ch. 8: "Are you going to bury me?" said Merry ; the name Nuhael is non-canonical.


	17. The Last Debate

When the day had darkened, Boromir cloaked himself and slipped though the gates unnoticed, and soon thereafter entered Aragorn's tent. "You left word I might find you here."  
  
"Greetings, Lord Boromir. How fares Lady Eowyn?"  
  
"As you left her. I want news of my brother. What errand did you give to him?"  
  
Aragorn returned his gaze. "Though he would not tell, you let him continue. What did you think his purpose is?"  
  
Boromir turned away. "It worries me. He seemed almost fey. I said he must be attempting a great blow and he did not dispute that."  
  
"I have come from the south. The threat of the Corsairs is no more. They are dead or fleeing scattered over land to their homes. I have captured their ships. The threat of Saruman is also ended. Yet all that is done here will be of no matter if your brother fails."  
  
"What is it he must do?"  
  
"He helps another. You know the Enemy's ring of Power?"  
  
Boromir blinked at the sudden change of topic. "It was lost."  
  
"For an age. Now it is found."  
  
He stared, seeing again the flash of the jewelled banner that had been despair for the besiegers -- the black ships and the unexpected dawn. "You wield it!"  
  
"No."  
  
"You do not? But how did you break the darkness?"  
  
"I have the support of other Powers. The winds came to answer my prayer, yet I needed to win the ships first or the storm would have helped little." Aragorn held Boromir's eyes in a dark stare. "I do not have this thing -- but He believes that I do. I act as if I do, to draw his Eye away."  
  
"What has Faramir to do with this?"  
  
"One of the halflings your brother guards carries it. They take it to the heart of Mordor to destroy it in the fires in which it was made."   
  
As swiftly as he could, Aragorn told the plan and the reasons of the Quest. After he finished Boromir sat in silence for many breaths, and Aragorn watched his face intently, reading many emotions.  
  
"Thorongil," he said at last. "When Faramir named you, I expected someone older."  
  
"Your father has aged more swiftly than I."  
  
He nodded, and there was another long pause. "I wanted to take his place, sending him back home. I said exactly the wrong words."  
  
"You are needed here," Aragorn answered his first words, then the second. "Yes, you did."  
  
"Was there anything I could have said?"  
  
"No."  
  
"And now -- ?"  
  
"We will need to take some of your men, enough to make my feigned threat credible. Yet this city will be better manned than before the battle, for men are marching here from the south and will arrive before we leave."  
  
-*-  
  
  
"Faramir is taking this prize into Mordor?" Denethor was almost beyond caring, it was too much. Forty years ago the unwelcome stranger from the north had turned his father against him, and now he had stolen _both_ his sons.  
  
"As I think you suspected, but you said naught. Yes. He will ride in challenge, to keep the Enemy's eye outward that he does not see the danger."  
  
"Danger! It is folly. He will give himself to Him, and death be his reward. Then the death of us all. Curse the elves! They steal our only hope, condemn us, then flee where we cannot follow. Elrond should have sent the Ring; Faramir should have brought it to me."  
  
Boromir could only grimace at the anger, at the passion his father was wasting. Boromir had worked himself to exhaustion, always pushing aside worry that he could do more. He was surprised to be alive, almost weak with relief that the city still lived. He could have used Denethor's help these last days, and had gotten only argument. He wanted bed and sleep, but he had to deal with ancient grudges. "You can't undo the choice father, any more than you could have called Faramir back once he was out the gates, though you wished it."  
  
"I? It was ever you looking mournful to the north. Better I am rid of him, wizard's puppet. I wish he had left us sooner, before he had stolen your loyalty."  
  
Boromir's eyes became dark with anger, but he did not raise his voice. "The 'fool's' choice may win. Sauron believes Thorongil has his Ring -- "  
  
"Your Northman _knows_ this," Denethor said scornfully. "How?"  
  
"He has challenged him. Sauron has gathered the palantiri to him, but one was captured in Isengard. Thorongil showed himself and Sauron knew him and will strike with all his will. Great victories have been won." Pointing to map, he named them, "Isengard, Helm's Deep, Pelargir and this day the Pelennor. These were won at great cost of men, but mayhap the Enemy believes it was the Ring that gave victory."  
  
"And the Fool will ride with his few thousands to the Gate of Mordor itself?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then let him. You will not ride, nor any captain from the City's garrison. Let Imrahil ride if he will, content to follow this pretender and all die. Though I hope he does not. We need all we can to hold our city as long as we may for the attacks to come."  
  
Boromir was in a dangerous mood, rebellion close. _Thorongil also wants me to stay_ , he told himself. _It is better not to increase father's anger._ "Yes, my Lord."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Boromir and Denethor entered the council site where the lords and captains of Gondor and the Mark had gathered at Aragorn's summons, along with Gandalf, the sons of Elrond and Dunedain from the North. The banner of the White Tree was displayed. Denethor stared at it in anger, and likewise at the many men that Boromir must have sent word to attend. He would have ordered them away, but Boromir had contrived to prevent the opportunity. Rather than insult, Denethor's late arrival had given advantage to "Elessar" -- so word in the street called him. Stiffly Denethor chose a place where he could see all the rest, and kept Boromir close.  
  
All other eyes were on the sword Aragorn held upright before them, for its power and the way he stood, as if come out of legend. "This is Anduril, the sword of Elendil reforged. Great doom is at hand. Heed the words of Gandalf."  
  
But it was no true council, Denethor saw, and Mithrandir kept his secrets. Eomer must have already known, and Imrahil must have been recently told -- both had been taken in, it seemed. The pretender was joined by a gang of fellow Northmen at his back, all acting as lords in worn, dark clothing. The wizard spoke vaguely about "powers, more than you know," and let the captains think they had the veiled powers in hand, rather than sending their weapon away in the hands of a child.   
  
Then Aragorn stressed the danger, and the need to keep secret that there were unspoken secrets and asked who would join him, though their hope was slim. "For to make no attempt is to give in to the Darkness which will have no end. Though we may die to do this, those we protect will have a chance to live."  
  
Standing next to Denethor, wounded by his accusations, Boromir longed for his brother's love. His heart ached, believing there was no hope, yet if there was even the smallest chance of sight or news of him he could not bear to let it slip by. He stepped forward.  
  
"No," Denethor said forcefully but low, and clamped one hand on Boromir's arm; he shook it off.  
  
Boromir bowed a scant bending at his waist, in answer to Aragorn's surprise.  
  
Three captains stepped forward, then five more, and more still. When Hurin began to join the others, Boromir waved him back, but he hindered no other. One of the second group sent a laugh toward Denethor's anger, which was echoed by a few others made brave by their pride to follow the banner of the White Tree and with the knowledge they would soon be out of the reach of the Steward's anger. Much of the loyalty Denethor once commanded had shifted to Boromir during the siege; to see Denethor's unhappiness at this was pleasant.  
  
"This is too many," Aragorn said to Boromir. "You should leave sufficient force to guard the city."  
  
"Hurin and I will confer, then. How much do you need?"  
  
There was not much further to say, and the council soon ended. By a hand placed briefly on his wrist, Denethor commanded Boromir to stay, and he obeyed. They stood and waited as the captains left, until only people of the north remained. Aragorn saw that they waited, and he joined them.  
  
"Do not take my son from me," he said. It was a hard asking. Denethor was on the brink of madness and Boromir's desertion was sending him over. "You cannot win, I have _seen_ it."  
  
Aragorn answered with the same cold stare as he had given in the throne room. Too many times had he been refused by this man to have a reason to listen to anything now.  
  
But for Boromir, much fell into place: his father had refused to look at the ships, the rumors of a strange green fire that some said they saw flicker in the tower windows, what Pippin had told him of why Gandalf brought him here. " _How_ did you see -- "  
  
That was all Aragorn needed to read all from Denethor's fear and heart: there was a seeing stone in the Tower of Guard, and Denethor had dared to call it to life. Eyes locked eyes again. "That was a dangerous folly, Steward."  
  
"It is in my charge, and I _use_ what tools have come to me."  
  
"The path is chosen and cannot be changed," Aragorn answered. "If Sauron discovers the plan -- "  
  
"He knows."  
  
Aragorn looked quickly to Gandalf, who shook his head. "In your dark mood, you read wrong what he chose to show you. If you look again, it is your death, my death and the death of all. Do not. It calls to me and I resist. Can you do less?"  
  
Denethor stared back. "Father," Boromir said before Denethor had mastered his anger enough to speak.  
  
Aragorn turned his gaze to Boromir, and realized he was dangerously close to opening old arguments that were best left closed. Denethor's reaction was an angry look at his son, but his stance had become less combative. That decided the matter for Aragorn. "Neither of us shall Look," he said, and turned away to speak to another as Boromir and Denethor left. Aragorn would trust the matter to Boromir.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Aragorn visited Eowyn who lay recovering in the Houses of Healing, at Boromir's insistence, though he was reluctant to reenter the city. "She asks this," Boromir had said. "You traveled long with Faramir and on our road I will speak with you of that, but she comes not with us and would have this conversation now."  
  
She was very weak and could barely move, but her spirit was strong. Aragorn spoke briefly of how Faramir had worried for her, and missed her, and had guessed Aragorn had similar hopes for beyond the end of the war.   
  
" 'Hopes'," she repeated in her faint voice. "If he had 'hope', I fear he has lost it. Boromir said Faramir spoke his 'goodbye' as a man going to death."  
  
"So he said to me. And now I go to the same danger." She breathed in sharply. "I am prepared to die," Aragorn continued. "Perhaps it may not come to that. Boromir will ride with me. I did not intend he should; it gives me hope, I hope not false."  
  
"How 'false'?"  
  
"I cannot now see this city without Boromir in it. He welcomed me outside the gates, and bid me enter. When I return, if I return, he will so welcome me again."  
  
"You have seen this?"  
  
"Yes, but -- " he took his hand away, and his face became concerned and angry. "I saw the vision at the end of battle, before the meeting of the captains. I should not have agreed that he ride with me. He is needed here. I could not make myself refuse. But I hope for this," a small laugh. "I have many reasons to want life, for myself, for the land and people. If there is victory -- There must be victory! -- this city lives. I have seen it joyful and rebuilt and he in the middle of it. Yet he would ride with me. And if he live, then mayhap I will also live, and my hopes be fulfilled. Yet it may be the cost of victory must include my death, and by taking him with me I rob him of his future. I know not."  
  
Eowyn's head was sunk deep into the pillows and gentle tears flowed again from hollow eyes. "... you have not seen his brother ... ?"  
  
"No, dear lady. I know not what may become of him."  
  
Her eyes closed. "May the Powers guard you. May They keep you, and him, safe."  
  
=== end chapter ===  
  



	18. The March to the Black Gate

As preparations were begun, work on the Pelennor continued. The fallen were buried in low mounds, enemy remains and siege camps burned, and battle damage cleared away or repairs begun. A small shield was brought to Theoden, found near to where Gandalf had battled the Nazgul. It was Merry's, that Eowyn had chosen for him. Theoden, still in the Houses of Healing, asked if the holbytla Peregrin might attend him, and put the shield into his keeping.  
  
Boromir heard of the request, and so met Pippin there, for he did not want Denethor to know. He encouraged Pippin to speak of his friend, and when he seemed emptied of words for a time, Boromir spoke on another matter.   
  
"There was a seeing stone in the tower of Isengard," Boromir said quietly. "Thorongil has possession of it now."  
  
Pippin shifted in his seat, looking guilty.  
  
"There is also, I believe, one of these stones in tower of guard," Boromir continued. "My father won't admit it plain, but there have been rumors."  
  
"I shouldn't talk of this," Pippin muttered in a strained voice. "Gandalf told me, put it out of my mind."  
  
"He did not know then of what my father might have done. The servants have told me the Steward will often climb up to the highest room of the tower, and they speak of a green fire that seems to flash in the windows. I have been away fighting and guarding our borders, but these rumors concerned me. Much more so now."  
  
Pippin started to shake and his eyes unfocused. "No. It wasn't a green light. It was fire, dark and horrible -- "  
  
"That must be what it is from the inside. You have to stop him, if he tries."  
  
"How can I?" He shrank away.   
  
"Though he will not say what he has agreed to, he gave us grudging promise that he would forebear. Remind him of that promise."   
  
"Make him tell you where it is and hide it!"  
  
"If anyone come that close to move it, knowing the reason why it must be done, Sauron could learn the reason -- we dare not risk that."  
  
-*-  
  
  
On the day before the host would leave, two days after the battle on the Pelennor, Denethor came to Boromir in private, wanting him to stay in the city.  
  
"Father, I do not know this man to be an enemy to me. We would have fallen if the ships had not come. His victory at Pelargir could not have been achieved save his attack on Umbar, forty years ago, which you thought could not succeed."  
  
"He gives the ring back to Sauron."  
  
"We ride to keep Sauron's eyes outward."  
  
"It was folly to throw that weapon away. Soon he will devour us. I need you here, I need your men here, to fight the Enemy -- here -- that we might be free a time longer. You throw your lives away."  
  
"What are a handful of days against despair? Is that all you can offer us? If we are all for death I will ride to battle, not hide in the dark, asking for one more day. Elessar has shown me a hope, and I chose to follow that. If we must die that others may live free, so be it."  
  
"You will obey me."  
  
"No." Their eyes locked, and Boromir stood defiant, as if to say, _I threw you down once and I will do so again if you dare try to force me_.  
  
Denethor said no word further, and the heart of each became hardened against the other, and those were the last words spoken between them. In this manner Boromir took command of the city, though Denethor still held the staff.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Walking through the court of the dead tree, Boromir heard a tower guard, Beregond, explaining in awed tones to Bergil, his son, of the white tree and Elessar's banner.  
  
"A word Beregond ... For love of my brother, I would give you a task that might test your oath. Denethor is ill-pleased."  
  
The guard said carefully, "You have quarreled."  
  
"He curses and thinks to disown me." Beregond's eyes widened, but Boromir only laughed. "I care not. A father's love is his to withdraw, but I do not accept that he may withdraw my inheritance, which I have already taken.  
  
"I have given orders to Hurin, who commands the garrison remaining not to accept imprudent orders from the Steward that he might make in despair. He may, in anger, seek to do harm to what of mine I leave behind. I will only think worse of him. I want my brother's room as he left it, untouched."  
  
Boromir locked eyes with the guard. In truth, his words were base slander and an injustice to Denethor, for in all his years the Steward had never lost control. Yet every man had his breaking point. He read Beregond's face as he contemplated and concluded the possibility. Boromir saw what he wanted there - the guard would not permit it, though it come to blows. The threat would probably be enough to prevent. Boromir grunted, satisfied.  
  
Beregond swallowed. "My lord," he forced the words out. "Mayhap Lady Eowyn --"  
  
"Yes, yes." Boromir nodded his thanks. "I should choose her a token. She and Pippin have leave to enter briefly, and others who grieve. His men loved him. I fear neither of us may return; I would have my brother remembered with honor."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Denethor sat on the steward's chair in the throne room, and no one entered and he spoke no word. When dusk came he sent Pippin away.  
  
He ran down to the tents, looking to say goodbye to Strider, but he found Boromir instead, and they talked long into the night.   
  
-*-  
  
  
In the morning Boromir took his leave of Eowyn, giving her the token he had chosen. "Faramir treasured this, as he treasures your love."  
  
She turned the flat shard over in her hand. A few inches square. The smooth side was covered with a blue glaze the color of the sky an hour before twilight. On one edge it faded into green. "What is this?" she asked, puzzled.  
  
" 'What is now broken,' he told me, 'can be built again'," Boromir answered. "He was fourteen years. I was training in Osgiliath and our uncle brought him for a visit. As our father was not there to mock his fancies he crawled and poked everywhere in the ruins, comparing what was there to the old buildings in the citadel that have been kept in repair. In the center of Osgiliath was the broken dome of the throne room, where the seats of Isildur and Anarion were side by side. He tried to build in his mind the picture of what it once was and asked us many questions. He dug that shard out of the dust, he thinks it came from the tiled walls, and said it might be part of an art treasure saved from Numenor. Our uncle, charitably, allowed that was unlikely. Faramir said the possibility was wonder enough, and gave it a special niche in his desk. In later years I would sometimes find him turning it in his hands, as you do now, wishing for better days."  
  
  
He promised he would look for Faramir and bring her news. She held his hand long as he sat next to her in the Houses of Healing, unsure what to say. There seemed so little hope; on so thin a thread he would risk so much.  
  
-*-  
  
  
The host mustered march to the gate of Sauron's reign. Eomer, Boromir and Imrahil each lead their army, and each had their banner, white horse, uncharged white, and silver swan. At the head rode Aragorn and the Dunedain, flying the white tree. There was a long pause at the river Anduin, for the host had to ferry across. Standing on the East bank of the river, Boromir mused why Thorongil had, as yet, said no word. _He wanted me to stay, I said I would. Then, in front of all, I broke that promise._  
  
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, the next time he walked by.  
  
"We have both followed our hearts," Aragorn answered, "as did Faramir when he spoke to Eowyn. Perhaps your father will as well."  
  
"Only if we die," Boromir replied, and shrugged. He then looked around to see if his uncle was close enough to have heard that. Aragorn wasn't sure what the backward glance was about, and didn't ask.  
  
When they camped, Boromir asked Aragorn for stories of Faramir. Imrahil was there also, for he was kin. At first, Aragorn did not know what to say, for what was strongest in his memory was Faramir claiming the task of guarding the quest. _Into Morder. Is that a thing for speech before sleep, to speak of such a place? We are in the shadow of those same mountains._ But there were other memories to speak of, he realized. Stories from the walk in Hollin and the stay in Lorien -- though Faramir found less peace there than the rest. On the river, even before he had Aragorn's agreement to lead the Eastern party, he had turned to Galadriel's book reading it before sleep during a day's rest then chanted long passages from it, from memory, to Frodo as he paddled, trying to make a Westron translation that did not over mar the original. Both brother and uncle smiled at that.  
  
The next day, Boromir was staring at Thorongil's banner as they rode slowly on, men marching behind. It was not the first time. He saw that Thorongil saw where he looked, but said nothing. Back in the tent outside the city's walls, when Thorongil had asked for captains to ride with him to battle, he had _asked,_ not claimed the right to make orders.   
  
He had spoken not of crowns nor rule, though he called himself Isildur's heir. _"Isildur's heir" he said, "must right Isildur's wrong."_ Denethor had hissed, brief and quietly, when Thorongil had said that. _Had Father lied? Had Thorongil lied? Did they both speak the truth as they knew it?_ Boromir considered the meeting in Henneth Annun. _Faramir spoke of the elf, Elrond. Elrond was_ here _at the last war. Elrond knew Isildur, would Elrond lie? If we all will die in this battle, what does it matter?_ He thought of Denethor and the other men that stayed behind to guard. _I want my city to live._  
  
-*-  
  
  
They marched. Depending on the weather and conditions and enemy action, in council they estimated it would be five to seven days before they made their last camp a short march to muster before the gate. A single person or small group would travel more quickly, but so long as they did not hesitate there was no reason to hurry. Would Sauron allow them to complete their march, or would they be cut down before? Scouts sent ahead encountered no evidence of heavy movement. Behind the black gates a great force could be mustered and sent out with greatest ease, so better to let his prize come to Him under their own power. And all were assaulted by doubt and fear of the dark and brooding mountains, for those who pretended to have confidence by reason of their powerful weapon, had no such power in their possession, and those they lead were close enough to perceive their wariness.  
  
There had been a small ambush easily countered near Hennuth Annun. It was the opinion of Elessar and Eomer that it was a mere feint, to encourage the captains to think the Enemy weak, and so continue into the waiting trap. They made camp only a short distance further, and before rest Boromir stood in silence, joined by the Ithilien rangers that still survived. Boromir stared up at the looming mountains. _Your promise, brother._  
  
== end chapter ==  
  



	19. Prayers in Darkness

Gimli stood in the tunnel entrance. Despite their fear of discovery, it had been a day for Gimli and Frodo to find it, guided by only what they could remember Gollum's vague description. During that time Faramir and Sam had located water to fill their skins.  
  
"There is the scent of something foul here," Gimli said as he waved the others in, and they entered reluctantly. It was an atmosphere of fear -- something evil slept here, slept lightly. They walked as quietly as they could. Once Faramir was sure they were far enough into the tunnel that no light would show in the opening he asked Frodo to pull out the phial. The light seemed to make the stench easier to bear.  
  
It took two marches for them to get through the tunnel, for they walked hesitantly, with much fear. _How many days?_ Faramir asked of the darkness. Was his city free, did the defenses hold? Did his family still live, or was he alone? _We delayed too often on our road. Will there be anything left to save?_ In the darkness that seemed doubtful. He could no longer hear the dream. _The King,_ he reminded himself. _That was the reason I was sent. I do not know how, but he will save my people. I know it._  
  
When they reached the blocked exit Faramir and Gimli's weapons could not cut the web, so Faramir borrowed Sting from Frodo, and that cut the barrier easily. He made an opening large enough for them to crawl through then led them quietly outside. They moved as close as they could to the guard tower then retreated to a shadow to plan. Each took a sip of water. They all hungered but did not eat. Rather they sat in fear and despair at what they had seen.  
  
In the dim light it had been difficult, but at length they puzzled out the land: a chasm, then the plateau, and Mount Doom beyond, belching smoke. One narrow bridge, well guarded by the tower. Even if ropes could let them down to the chasm, they could not be sure of a way back up. They would be seen.  
  
The ring throbbed against Frodo's chest at the sight of its home. He pressed his hand there, trying to silence it.  
  
"No, no." He was crying. "There is no way to do it." He sat on the ground and buried his head in his arms and knees.  
  
 _There is a way._ Faramir's mouth set as he reached his conclusion.  
  
Gimli saw it as well. "Better, then, the elf is not here." He put a hand on Faramir's shoulder as he walked by. He turned and, with a grunt, positioned himself, one knee to the ground. Watching for orcs, he pulled out his ax and laid it in front of him, ready at need, and withdrew Galadriel's gift from the pocket where it lay against his chest, the thin and brilliant coil of gleaming gold hair. He drew the strands to their length, placed the midpoint at his left temple, then with clever fingers he made a braid of his corse dark hair with the gold woven through it.  
  
"What are you doing?" Sam asked.  
  
Gimli looked to Faramir to explain.  
  
"The bridge is the quickest way to the mountain, but that tower guards all ways; we will be discovered soon. Gimli and I must make a diversion to get you two inside. We must buy you passage."  
  
Frodo would have no part of it. He would have no more death. Faramir struggled to pull him out of his denial. Without Frodo's cooperation they would be trapped here, and all lost.   
  
"You'll be questioned," Frodo protested. He couldn't say the word, _tortured_.  
  
Faramir wished Frodo hadn't thought of that objection. "We won't let them take us alive," he answered, and that was worse still. Frodo tried to bolt again, back the way they had come. Faramir wouldn't let go. "There is no other way onto the plain," he said again. "Your only chance to cross the bridge is if we draw away the guard."   
  
"And be killed." Frodo repeated. The ring, hidden beneath his tunic, now in sight of the mountain, answered the mountain's fire with its own heat. _Your friends do not need to die,_ its power called to him. Fighting the temptation, all he could do was close his eyes and weep, silently cursing his uselessness. Faramir removed his hands from the hobbit's shoulders, and sagged back in bitter frustration, fighting that weak part of himself that was glad for the delay, that pleaded for another way. Gimli stayed as he was, eyes glazed, focusing on the battle to come and his burning blood. He would make no more choices: he was as entranced, waiting for instruction.   
  
"Master, you've got no call to take guilt for our fates," Sam said, and his voice was brutal. "This isn't about punishment. We're not dying because we did something wrong. We're fighting for our homes, to keep them safe. None of us want to die and it will be hard on our people who won't know how or even if we died, but there it is. You can't change it." He waited until Frodo's breathing quieted, then he took hold of one arm under the shoulder and pulled him up from the wall.  
  
"Yes, Sam." Frodo said, putting his feet underneath him and wiping away his tears.  
  
Faramir looked about to speak, but Sam cut him short. "I don't need your pity, either," he said in the same hard voice. "I don't have time for it. Gollum's trap may be chasing behind us."   
  
The rest was easy for Faramir to read in his eyes. No, he hadn't understood the dangers when he started this quest, but he hadn't seen anything to make him want to have the choice to make over again. They would be Elrond's small thieves, too small to be noticed.  
  
 _Oh, Lady,_ Faramir pleaded silently, thinking of elves singing in Lorien. _Help them. They don't deserve to die._ He said aloud, "Then we'd best get the job done."  
  
-*-  
  
  
It was a few minutes with the packs to get them ready, and Gimli kept watch for patrolling orcs. Sam put his pans in Gimli's pack and took all the water and food, save for what Faramir carried, their capes and his sword. He estimated the run would be a long one, and he was fearful of how much Frodo could carry.  
  
"Ready?" Gimli asked. "I have a debt to settle with these orcs. For Gandalf -- and Balin."  
  
"Wait," Faramir said. Unslinging his water skin he asked for Frodo's. He poured what he had left into the smaller skin, making it almost full. As Frodo replaced it, Faramir made a gash in his now-empty skin and sucked out the last drops, then slung it back on. "They will think, if any have wit to wonder, that one of their own blades cut this and sent my water to the ground."  
  
Gimli laughed grimly at that. His ax was impatient and hungry. " _Now_ are you ready?"  
  
"Yes," Faramir answered.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Sam held Frodo by the wrist. They hurried down the path, and the cover of rocks soon dropped away. Faramir pointed to the chosen shadow in a shadow where the hobbits would wait in until they heard the alarm. They parted, and Faramir and Gimli ran to the base of the wall. The hollow was such that Frodo and Sam could not see the lights of the fortress. Sam kept his eyes on the bridge, memorizing the stones and planning their path, looking for signs of movement in the red light. The bridge was empty. There was a distant roar from Barad-dur.  
  
Then, alarm. They stood and ran. Over the bridge and then down into the gully at the side of the road. Sam was careful to choose a smooth embankment to run down that they left no footprints. The road and the bridge and the tower were now before them, as they lay panting, trying to breathe quietly, faces pressed against the cold stone. They were facing back towards the path they had come. Behind them lay the mountain. Faintly they heard cries of battle, which turned, after a time, to laughter.  
  
Slowly they lifted themselves from the stone and with many backward glances, fearful of pursuit, they crawled across the broken landscape toward their destination.  
  
-*-  
  
  
"I could have saved them," Frodo said. Sam and he were huddled in a crevice too exhausted to move. They did not know if it was night or day or how long they had crawled across the plain. The light from the mountain had not changed. Sam had given them each a sip of water and had declared wearily that he did not think either of them could stay awake for a watch but they must risk a short rest. "I could save us all. That's what the ring said to me."  
  
"You shouldn't say that word here, master. Don't listen to the lies, it only betrays. Elrond warned about temptation."   
  
"Yes, Sam."  
  
-*-  
  
  
In her dreams, Galadriel heard Faramir's prayers as if Elbereth had sent them hence, and a harsh dwarven battle cry caused her to wake. She arose weeping from her bed and called the eagles to her. She asked them to help and they said they would fly as close as they could to Mordor and wait for a sign.  
  
=== end chapter ===


	20. Mount Doom

Once the forces were ordered a small door opened on the gate and a small party rode out carrying a white flag of truce. Aragorn and Eomer rode to meet the parley half way, and Gandalf was their herald. Four other men rode behind as guards. Boromir stayed on the right hill with the men of Minas Tirith, and Imrahil stayed on the left, with the men of south Gondor and Rohan.  
  
The party was met by the Mouth of Sauron and his guards. All dismounted, and the Mouth showed his tokens as he gave Sauron's terms of surrender.  
  
The first token he showed was Faramir's horn: it was split nearly in two, and marked with blood. The second token was Gimli's ax, notched but whole, and that was the last token. As the Mouth said these were the proof that their spies were held prisoner Aragorn was sore pressed to hold grief on his face: Frodo and Sam had entered unseen.  
  
Gandalf showed his power and took the horn and axe as the Mouth cowered, refusing Sauron's false promises. Aragorn took Faramir's horn from Gandalf as he quickly mounted, and Eomer hung Gimli's ax on his saddle.  
  
They rode back to their battle places as the Mouth returned to the gate. Eomer went to the left hill and Aragorn and Gandalf to the right.  
  
_He did not fail me, I will not fail him,_ Aragorn vowed. There was a regret behind, he pushed it back down, that Boromir was here. Whatever happened next, Boromir could not have been dissuaded to come, and Faramir's horn was reason enough -- he prayed Boromir's life would be spared. _It is over, Sauron will fall._ Frodo would in no wise fail him -- as sure as he had been of Faramir, Aragorn was likewise assured of Frodo.  
  
-*-  
  
  
"Are you ready to die, brother?" Aragorn called to Boromir, his voice an exultation. He rode his horse up to meet him, then gave him Faramir's horn. "The Enemy has killed our two spies," he said to him. "Their deaths have won our thieves entrance unnoticed. Now it is our turn to hold Sauron's eyes outward."  
  
Boromir pulled off the thong that held back his hair. He tied the split securely together, then tied the horn so it hung above his own. Aragorn rode on to his place with the Dunedain.  
  
-*-  
  
  
It had been days of hard crawling across the parched plain of stone and sharp caked mud to reach the mountain, ever wary of the guard, but the plain was emptied. Frodo and Sam stumbled up the path that circled the mountain hardly able to think, and Sam could not remember entering the tunnel. In the red light of the Cracks of Doom slowly he became aware again.  
  
Frodo took the chain off his neck and clutched the ring in his hand, staring at the flames. He could not feel the heat, he could not feel anything. There seemed to be a wall of ... something between the chasm and his intention. _Precious, Gollum called it. His Precious. Not his. Mine._  
  
The flames leapt up, welcoming the presence of that which ruled them. The ring had brought itself home; it had its own dim awareness, and a presence much closer and dearer than words out of the past, out of a life Frodo could no longer remember.  
  
_I said I would unmake it. But it is precious..._  
  
"Master?" Sam asked, standing behind, weary and puzzled.  
  
"I do not choose now to do what I came to do," Frodo answered. Gandalf would not want him to do this. Gandalf was lost; he did not remember Gandalf's name. As Elrond had pleaded with Isildur, he would plead now. Elrond was far away.  
  
Frodo spoke in a voice that was not his own. "I will not do this deed. The Ring is mine!" _My Precious._  
  
Frodo vanished from Sam's sight. "Master? Frodo!" Sam remembered Gandalf falling into the Abyss, and the orc laughter that was the deaths of Faramir and Gimli. _No! Don't do this! It cannot be all for nothing!_ "Frodo!" _Elbereth, help me!_ he called. _I don't know what to do._ He saw Rosie burning in her home, the Gaffer with an orc-arrow in his throat, Eowyn cut down in Edoras, and Bilbo and Arwen trapped in Rivendell. The despair faded and his heart hardened. _If Frodo will not destroy the ring, then I will have to do it,_ he shuddered at the thought, _even if that means killing him. No one will know. We are going to die anyway._ When it was done, Elrond would say "Frodo died destroying the ring," and he would be well remembered and that was as Sam would have it. He let down his cape and his pack,  and pulled his sword, still sheathed, from his belt.  
  
-*-  
  
  
The gates opened; there were slow movements. Signals seemed to be garbled. With many shrieks, the Nazgul were up into the air, flying toward Mt. Doom. _No, it's a lie!_ Aragorn called after them, seeing the direction that they flew. _I have it. I have the Ring!_  
  
Gandalf saw also. His face was unreadable. He turned at the call of the eagles, and lifted his staff. Gwaihir landed and Gandalf jumped onto the great eagle's back with no word. Aragorn stared after and his blood ran cold as the three flying forms disappeared over the massive, open gate.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Sam found Frodo by his voice, and pulled him away from the ledge. He held Frodo down and tried to talk to him, but rational talk about throwing the ring away just sent him into a fury. Sam lost his advantage and Frodo threw him off. Sam swung hard with his sword and it was stopped, as he knew it would be, by the mithril coat. The blow split the sheath, and its pieces fell to the floor. Frodo was stunned for a moment and Sam got him pinned against the wall a dozen feet from the tunnel's edge, holding him down with his left arm across his chest, and he kept him from struggling with the feel of the naked blade next to his throat. The glow from the mountain fire painted the blade blood red.  
  
"Take if off, my preciouss, he sseess uss," Sam said in earnest Gollum talk. "Take it off, the mountain, it sshakes; he'ss coming--he knowss we're here. Protect the presciouss. Hide it. He wantss it back, he wantss to eat the whole world, eat uss. It is powerful, yess; but not yet, we musst be sstrong..." The words had a calming effect on Frodo, and Sam let his sword fall to the ground, and he held Frodo by both arms. "Protect the preciousss, protect..."  
  
The fires of the mountain cast a flickering red light onto the bare wall he talked to. The mountain shook. Suddenly, Frodo was visible, the ring off, but still in his hand. Sam snatched the ring out of the loose fingers, turned and threw the ring with infinite hate into the fires.  
  
Frodo's wounded scream was as terrible as the mountain's. He threw Sam down onto the floor, unsheathing Sting. Sam didn't resist, but the blow went wide. "Sam?" Frodo asked, the ring's madness fading. "Sam!" He put Sting back into its sheath and tried to lift Sam up, but only succeeded in pulling himself down. He saw Sam's hand was burned and bloody. The ring, not wanting to die, had burned bright, trying to make Sam drop it on the floor rather than throw it in the fire. Sauron was dead, and he had killed Sam. "Sam!"  
  
"Master?" he answered weakly.  
  
Frodo struggled and got his shoulders up and then Sam was sitting. "I'm sorry! What have I done to you?"  
  
"Hurts," Sam said, pressing his hand against his chest.  
  
Frodo tore off the bottom of his tattered sleeve to make a crude bandage. "I couldn't throw it in. I failed. How did you take it from me?"  
  
"I asked the Lady. She helped."  
  
"I tried to kill you."  
  
"No. Sauron had you. He didn't want to be destroyed. The Lady could protect me, even if she couldn't reach you. I only had it a moment. I thought about Rosie and Arwen, and he never touched my mind. But you had to take it off. You did that."  
  
_It's gone._ It was much like Sam, Frodo thought, trying to push away the emptiness. Sam would not let him say he was wrong even when he was. That was why Elrond sent him: no one could be strong enough to carry it as long as he had and not be possessed by it. But Sam was true and Sam was innocent and Sam was not tempted by the power it offered. _Sam got it right,_ Frodo thought, filled with shame and gratitude, and he wept.  
  
The floor shook, harder this time. "I think the mountain's dying," Frodo said. "We'd better get out of here." With an effort he stood, but Sam stayed where he was. "Sam, please, I can't lift you."  
  
"Yes, master," he said as he stood.  
  
They stumbled out of the tunnel and down the path. Frodo's pack was still on his back; Sam's pack, sword and cape were forgotten. There was nowhere to run. All the plateau was boiling and tearing itself apart. "Lady, could you help _me_ now?" Frodo asked.  
  
"There," Sam pointed. Frodo could dimly see a dark shape through the clouds of smoke, a rock more solid than the rest. He took them there, but it was all the strength he had. He huddled over Sam and waited for the end.  
  
There Gwaihir found them.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Bilbo was sitting in the cool spring sunlight, feet swinging because the bench was too tall for him, keeping Arwen company as she tended to the garden. His table in the library -- it and the chair with legs shortened to a hobbit's height -- was scattered with papers. A proper mess he should be tending to, but he was not in the mood.  
  
His red book, all its blank pages at the back, was as complete as it could be. _Until ... Until._ He had taken notes and notes talking to Frodo and the others about their travel from the Shire to here, to Rivendell. He had his own memories of the Council, which had been a long and difficult chapter to write. He had written of the preparations, Elrond's final words to the Company, and his own: _'And don't be too long! Farewell!'_  
  
There had been brief but worrying news from Lothlorien. They had left from there without Gandalf, and a small group of the Dunadain who had been trained for war went south to find it, accompanied by Elrond's sons ... but that was only a single sheet of writing and would have to wait. After a few days dithering he had gone back to translating elvish poetry. He went from book to book finding fear as much as comfort in the beautiful words. So he put down his pen early today and had walked to the garden, found Arwen, gave her a hug as she knelt at her work, then watched. The day was clear and cool, seeming more like early spring than late winter. There was little that could or needed to be done, but perhaps Arwen also needed distraction.  
  
The breeze stilled. The golden sunlight somehow whitened. Time both stopped and stretched. Suddenly he was cold, as if it were the deepest night of deepest winter, and he too long without a fire. He must have gasped or made some other sound, for Arwen was there, taking his arms, speaking words he couldn't understand, and laying him flat on the bench.  
  
Arwen called out for help, and lifted her head to see Elrond striding toward her. His pace was quick but his step unsteady. He knelt, taking Bilbo's hand with one of his. He placed his other hand on the hobbit's forehead, and frowned at what he found. "It is done," he said.  
  
"Father?" she asked. She now could see the ring he wore. It was gold with a blue stone.  
  
"The One Ring is unmade. I cannot say the cost."  
  
-*-  
  
  
On the battlefield, the silence was eerie. Aragorn was unsure of the meaning. He looked to the defense, sending the message, "Hold, don't charge."  
  
Then there was a distant explosion, and distant screams coming closer. In the midst of it, Aragorn turned to see Elrohir and Elladan looking back at him. It was a wordless pause, relief and pain. And in that moment he felt himself cut off, isolated, as if he watched from a high place. It was a Seeing, as if on Ammon Hen, yet clear and broad, and everywhere it was thus: Sauron's armies had lost the Will that drove them, and they cried in terror and confusion. It was as if he was a ghost, unmoved and untouched. Why? Was it not that he would die here? But he lived. _Arwen!_ he called to her. _It will be! Ah, that we will be reunited on this earth, and not beyond._ And joy and sorrow it was in him, as he beheld the battlefield. Sauron was broken. He could hear the call of the land of Mordor dying: rocks were cracking and boiling and the mindless screams of the leaderless army, fleeing the shaking ground, and he ordered the charge, for the western army was still sore out-numbered. _It had been nine that were sent in secret from Rivendell,_ he grieved. _Dead, all dead._  
  
In the midst of the slaughter, Boromir's horn sounded once again. Aragorn turned toward the sound then looked where Boromir pointed and heard his voice faint but clear in the sudden pause. "Thorongil! Thorongil! The Eagles!"  
  
Out of the dust and steam clouds they flew. And all the armies of the West cheered but Aragorn wept as he took Frodo's battered form from out of the eagle's claws.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Aragorn tended immediately to Frodo, but Gandalf went to Sam. He found the bloody hand. "Aragorn!"  
  
"What happened?" Aragorn asked as he cleaned the wound, seeing that Gandalf knew something.  
  
Gandalf shook his head. "Will they live?"  
  
"By the Lady's grace."  
  
" _Frodo_ claimed it," he looked back at Sam. "In the end, Frodo could not resist the temptation."  
  
"Yet it was done."  
  
"And not by force. No force could that Force overturn."  
  
"Then how?"  
  
"Sam, somehow. Clever Sam."  
  
-*-  
  
  
The casualties for Aragorn's forces were less than they at first feared, and the dead were few enough that they could be taken to Ithilien for burial. The few Southrons and Easterlings that surrendered were set to dragging and dumping enemy dead, stripped of weapons, into the noxious acid pits before the gate.  
  
In this chaos of after battle searching Mablung found a group of Ithilien Rangers talking together in whispers.  
  
"Boromir has Faramir's horn! The King gave it to him."  
  
"The Parley said he was taken prisoner. He died when the Tower fell."  
  
"Don't listen to lies. The Captain didn't surrender. It was false promises to torment us, cat and mouse."  
  
"No, Mablung! The wizard rescued him! Two went in, the Captain and the Dwarf! The wizard went in and back with _two_ eagles. He blasted the tower's top and rescued them from the dungeons."  
  
"There were more gone in than we saw at Henneth Annun. Don't you listen? It was _halflings_ the eagles carried. I saw as they flew down."  
  
"You saw the Dwarf."  
  
"He's dead. Why would the Heir carry both horns if the Captain still lived?"  
  
"No. I won't believe it. He _promised!_ "  
  
"If Faramir returns, it's to the Silent Street, Rath Dinen."  
  
"No -- "  
  
"Hush. You're only hurting yourself."  
  
=== end chapter===  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's quote from the "Red Book" is taken from FotR, "The Ring Goes South"; The words Frodo says as he claims the ring are taken from RotK, "Mt. Doom."


	21. Of Those that Live

Sam swallowed one more time, then Aragorn let him down, back to the healing sleep. Those on horseback had taken the wounded quickly away from the battlefield. On the morrow they would ride further back to Ithilien and fresh water.  
  
"Have you learned how they died?" Boromir asked, his voice tightly controlled.  
  
Aragorn considered the words of the parley, what had and had not, apparently, been known by the enemy. "Faramir and Gimli died drawing the watch away when Frodo and Sam entered into Mordor."  
  
"How are you sure?"  
  
"That is what I would have done."  
  
There was a pause before he answered. "If Faramir had not taken your place."  
  
"It was his place, not mine. I would have taken it, but he refused, and well for us all that he did." Aragorn looked in sorrow at Faramir's horn. "This is all that remains; yet it was a joy to me to see it. Can you forgive me?"   
  
Boromir's breath caught.  
  
Aragorn traced the pattern, dark against the silver and ivory, his voice wistful. "Can you forgive the manner of my words? I saw his blood and rejoiced. I still do -- to have some part of him. Every sign that I was given seemed to show that Pippin alone, of the Fellowship, would survive to tell our story."  
  
"My blood also burned, Elessar. I, too, rejoiced." He also had expected die, to follow and find his brother in that other place. He made a small bow and gestured outside the shadow of the tent, to the brightly-lit stone field. Sorrow entered his voice, though he tried to disguise it. "... Yet the sun shines and we both see it. It is now time for those who live." They left the tent together, and this was noted by many.  
  
-*-  
  
  
They climbed to a private place, apart from and above the camp, on sloping ground. They were still in a desolated area of bare rocks. Boromir found a place to sit. Aragorn sat next to him. Boromir covered his eyes with one hand, then pulled the hand down.

"I'm sorry we could not save him," Aragorn said.

There was a long pause. What Boromir wanted to say, he could not put voice to. He said instead, "We saved my people. We saved Gondor."

_And all the countries of the West,_ Aragorn amended silently. "Yes."

"I do not want to leave my home. His home, their home."

"I would not ask that of you."  
  
"What now, then, Lord?"  
  
"The King," Faramir had said in Rivendell, before there had been any sign of hope. Boromir had said "Lord" before, but that had been to the commander of armies. This was something much more. Aragorn shrugged. "The next action is Denethor's."  
  
"No." Boromir said firmly. The name had angered him. "He will not decide. He shall not survive the news that you still live. And it should not be his decision, he who would look at death as a triumph." His jaw was tightly clenched. He took a pair of breaths and loosened it. "I spoke with Pippin ere we left. He said Faramir had spoken to you about Osgiliath and civil war, and this troubled you." Boromir looked to Aragorn, who nodded agreement. "Well it should," he continued, keeping his gaze as it was, "and well it should be on my mind who has been raised -- as you were raised, so it seems -- to be ruler of this land.  
  
"I say to you Elessar of the White Tree, that you have displayed that tree and have made that claim. I understand that you used the tree for a weapon, yet you did use it. My father, who swore an oath, will die rather than be bound by it. He looks to me to oppose you for he thinks that as I have not sworn I am not bound to acknowledge you, but I look to my people and see that I must, even as my honor tells me the same."  
  
The words were difficult, and at last Boromir had to turn away, and he sat on the sloping ground, looking across to the distant horizon. "This civil war that Faramir feared will not happen if you take the crown, only if I give it not."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"This is my land; I stay. You will be my king."  
  
The voice was much as his brother's had been. Aragorn doubted that he would often hear this tone, but the searing ache for Faramir unbound in an instant from bitter wounding need into deep sadness. This man would be no enemy. In time, in as much as was possible, he could become a friend. He had found a place for his pride which said "I am as I should be," and if the ghost of Denethor should come to assail his son and bring him into a dark mood, yet he could trust Boromir to put the anger aside. And if they, in the future, disagreed on a thing, he could be content that it was true advice and not rebellion.  
  
Aragorn looked also outward and said in formal language, "Then I will say to you, Lord Boromir, that I am pleased with this, but I will take a while before I shall come for my crown. There are many wounded here. I do not desire to put myself between you and your father. You say he will die soon: you should go to him."  
  
His heart wished to do so, but his honor called it unwise. "I dare not."  
  
"I say that you must. You, as his son, may go to your father. He has but one sword, if you bring none. You will make no war." Boromir bowed his head. Aragorn sat beside him. "I have called you brother, and in the manner of men who are sons of their fathers we are as if kin, and I will say this to you as if you were indeed my brother -- though I have none -- or if you were a dear friend -- and this war has taken many dear friends from me, Faramir not the least: I did not know my father."  
  
Shocked, Boromir turned his head. After a moment, Aragorn's eyes met his. What he saw there made him quickly turn away.   
  
Aragorn let the silence be for a time, and then continued softly, "I had dreamed long ago of a place bathed in the white light of peace, made hazy by sorrow, and fear for a darkness to come. A tall, sad man stood there, against the darkness. He had long, dark hair and a face beyond my memory to know. He held me in his arms for I was but a child and he spoke to me gentle words of farewell." He sighed. "That is all the memory I have of my father, who died before I learned to say his name. If memory it be, and not wholly a child's fancy. I did not know his name nor my own until my twentieth year."  
  
Aragorn said this easily, the pain long gone and not renewed in the telling. Boromir only stared in silence, unable to imagine such an orphan's life. What could it be to be nameless? _No, he must have had a name ... a false name. A false name he had not known was false until he was told the truth._ Boromir shivered. _I have always known who I was, who I would be, what I would never be._ He remembered a day when he was seven years old, and Faramir still a toddler. Always he, or the nurse, or Father would hold his hand to keep the young child from running curious where he should not go. Mother had a difficult night -- she was sick again -- and, exhausted, she had fallen asleep in her chair. Father quietly lifted Faramir from her arms into his own and, to give her peace, they had left the room. That was the earliest time he could remember the throne room, for that is where Father had walked. "This will be your duty," he told him. But when he asked why they should sit in the lower chair and not in the throne at the top of the stairs, his father's eyes had turned cold. "We are Stewards, not Kings." Boromir's eyes closed. Faramir was gone, and Denethor was lost to him.  
  
"I envy your memories," Aragorn said. "Do not abandon him."  
  
"Do you command me, Lord?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"As you will."  
  
-*-  
  
  
As they returned to the camp, Boromir said that he would bring Faramir's horn with him to lay in the House of Stewards, and asked if he should also bring Gimli's ax. Aragorn agreed and said to sent to Edoras for Legolas' bow. "For Meriadoc is even now waiting in the silent street. The four may lay together for a time until we know their families' wishes."  
  
When Boromir mounted to leave, Aragorn, standing by, held him a moment and said quiet words that none standing near could hear. "If his pride has not yet killed your father, give to him my greeting. Tell him that as it is between us is sufficient with me and I will in no way order him save that I will take the crown."  
  
Boromir's mouth set and he looked outward. "That is fair said, Lord. Yet I doubt that he will hear."  
  
"As always, Boromir, he is a grief to me. I wish you good speed and fare you well."  
  
Boromir nodded, then signaled his horse to a trot. Aragorn watched briefly as Boromir rode toward the river, then walked back to Gandalf, who had been watching the exchange. "It is well?" he asked.  
  
"Well indeed," Aragorn smiled. "He was born to be steward and so he shall be."   
  
=== end chapter ===


	22. The Time of Gifts

The afternoon of the battle, the eagles came to Minas Tirith to bring news of Elessar's victory. The city rejoiced, except for Denethor. As ever, he sat on his stone seat.  
  
Pippin, at his side, heard the ringing bells. "I'll go see," he said after a time. Denethor made no response, and Pippin decided that was leave enough to go. He ran out, then soon back again.  
  
"Eagles," he said breathlessly. "They said Sauron is no more. Strider -- " He was stopped by a glare. "Sauron has fallen -- " The anger was too much. Pippin could hardly speak. "Your sons, sir, I'm sorry. They didn't say." The hall was silent, except for what muted sounds entered in from the celebrations outside.  
  
Then there was a sound of singing, many voices, coming nearer. The singers may or may not have been at the outer door, ready to enter and make homage to the throne. With a strangled sound, Denethor stood, breaking his white staff against his knee. There was a knife on his belt, but he left it there. All his rage fell upon his heart, and so it was torn. He crumpled to the floor, grasping at his chest. Pippin called for help and then ran back to him, and Denethor did not push him away. As he fell into his swoon he seemed to smile at Pippin's tears.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Boromir rode fast back to the city, accompanied by a single armsman. That night he dreamed, and in his dreams came memory.  
  
The room was made bright from the sunlight of last year's midsummer. Denethor's chamber seemed too small to contain the three within, such was the strength of their argument. Boromir had spoken to Hurin and he to others, and the captain of Cair Andros had asked in council of the meaning of Faramir's dream.  
  
"Why did you name it Prophecy?" Denethor demanded to Boromir. "Your brother did not presume to claim so much."  
  
"'Summons' or 'Prophecy' it _is_ from the Powers," Faramir said, "and it must be heeded." Denethor turned away.  
  
Boromir stepped between him and the closed door. "I say what is," Boromir returned his father's stare. As he had done many times before, he stood firm against Denethor's displeasure and continued, "You shall not order us away and pretend nothing happened. Such a sending is no 'fancy,' it would be error to toss this message aside as unimportant."  
  
"There is too much to be done to waste time on idle riddles, but now rumor will run riot. I ordered you both to silence."  
  
Boromir was unrepentant. Faramir again defended himself, and Boromir knew he was grateful for his support. "I dreamed again last night, as I have every night since the attack. When a word is spoken, I have no choice whether or not to hear."  
  
"When battle is nigh, it is your duty not to let your attention be drawn aside."  
  
"It is war that threatens," Boromir said, "and we are unprepared."  
  
"Gondor will do as she must," Denethor answered his tone with scorn.  
  
"We cannot win against the Nameless One, Father," said Faramir. "Defeat has never been 'if' but 'when'." And Denethor, whose face was hardened by the years lived under that burden, glared that he would say this truth aloud. "We cannot win," Faramir continued. "Not without help. This prophecy gives us hope of survival."  
  
"Fantasies," he scoffed. "You are a fool to put hope in such notions. You are needed here."  
  
"And what good could Earendil have done had he returned to this shore and had not come unto Valinor to make his plea? Should Elendil have not watched for the signs, as his father told him, that he could survive the wreck of Numenor?"  
  
"No," Denethor said angrily. "You will speak no more of this."  
  
"Yes," Boromir said at the same time. He stepped close to his father and held his eyes with his own. "Send him. This summons is real and it promises help. We need help. You may be content that Gondor will die with you, but I am not. He goes."  
  
After a time, Denethor turned away. "Go then," he said, "as soon as you may. When you return in your hands there will be nothing, and your heart will have only regret."  
  
And then the room filled with the red-gold light of dawn and the floor turned to sand and he saw his shadow cast long across waves of a vast sea that was before him. And it was no place in his memory, nor could he have found any such land in Gondor where he could stand and see the endless sea with land to left and right curving back behind him that he saw only the sea before. Was this how the western sea was seen from lost Numenor?  
  
Out of the west and up from his heart called a voice of power,  


  
_"Seek for the sword that was broken,_   
_In Imladris it dwells._   
_There shall be counsels taken_   
_Stronger than Morgul-spells._   
_There shall be shown a token_   
_That Doom is near at hand,_   
_For Isildur's Bane shall waken,_   
_And the Halfling forth shall stand."_   


and Boromir knew the meaning of each word while for Faramir it had been mystery. And pride swelled in Boromir's heart to be confirmed by this gift from the West that he and Gondor had chosen true.  
  
"It was for me to ask our King to return," said Faramir. His smile was bright and no care or hurt could be seen on him. "Yours is the test of acceptance."  
  
"I have given him my oath."  
  
"That was ill done," said Denethor. "When the dark times came these kings, if they are kings, stayed hidden. What claim can this pretender have after so many years?"  
  
"I have my honor father, why must you forsake your own?" answered Boromir.  
  
Denethor turned away from his sons and was gone. The brothers then stood together under a blue sky until the dream was ended with Boromir's waking, and he rode less swiftly thereafter.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Denethor lay in his swoon two days before he finally slipped away. He had opened his eyes once near the end but did not answer when Pippin called his name. The body was taken away, and Pippin went to Theoden for comfort. Late the next day Boromir arrived. His approach was noted, and riders came out, telling him news of Denethor's death. Faramir's horn was wrapped in cloth and the ax was also hidden.  
  
"I would speak first with the lady Eowyn. Alone."  
  
The swifter of the two riders went back before them.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Eowyn stood in the antechamber, tall and proud, also fearful. Just behind her stood a table lit, through a window, by the day's bright sunlight but her face was in shadow.  
  
Boromir stepped close and bowed his head. "I am sorry, lady."  
  
Her eyes closed a moment, there were tears. She remained silent, not moving.  
  
But then Boromir stepped past her to put down the cloth he carried. He opened it to show the blood-stained horn and she was undone.  
  
"Rescue came too late?" she choked, her grief raw and terrible.  
  
"No, no." Boromir took her arms to steady her. "They were far from help. This was taken for trophy, and so we recovered it." She did not ask after the rest, but he continued. "Their bones ... mingled with the orcs, no doubt. The whole of Gorgonath, it seems, was unmade when the ring was destroyed. The tremors lasted long into the night. When it is cool enough to enter, I think we will find nothing but stone. I'm sorry."  
  
She sobbed long onto his chest and he likewise grieved.  
  
-*-  
  
  
After a time they joined Theoden in his chamber. Pippin was there and he looked at the ground as he said he was sorry.  
  
Boromir knelt to embrace him, and said, "He was my father, but I could not stay by his side. It is a comfort to my heart that you stayed by and he let you, though he drove all others away."  
  
"You found proof of Faramir's death?" Theoden asked.  
  
In answer, Boromir opened up the cloth showing the horn. Theoden motioned him closer. Boromir approached, but his face was turned away from the horn and the King.  
  
Theoden saw his guilt and spoke softly. "You have ever been protector of all your people, Boromir. Even when your King comes, that will not change. Faramir also had that duty. He has been out of your protection for many years."  
  
"Since he first went to battle without me, my heart oft rebelled."  
  
"If Faramir was sitting with us and I told him, 'I believe Lord Boromir thinks of you as a child,' how do you think he would answer me?"  
  
Boromir managed a small smile at that. "He would be amused. But he would understand."  
  
In the discussion following, Boromir mentioned his dream, but then wished he hadn't, and afterwards kept it secret. Eowyn was silent when he escorted her back to her room, and he lingered. She stared out of her window; it faced east, towards Mordor. "When he came to you did he say aught of me? Did he wear any token of Rohan?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Eowyn. Did you not -- ?"  
  
"Seers are few in Rohan." She lowered her eyes. "Your family Dreams. Mine does not."  
  
_And would that our family did not dream,_ Boromir wished bitterly. _Would it have been another to summon the King, and my brother might yet be alive._ "No," he answered her question. "As I said, he spoke of the King. I and our people had chosen rightly. His clothes were simple cut, but were none I've ever seen." Seeing that she wept, he stepped closer, and put his hands on her arms as he looked out the window with her. "He has found peace," he said. "He knows we are safe."  
  
"A small comfort," she answered, "but what comfort I can find, I will take."  
  
== end chapter ==


	23. Inheritance

Having returned to the city, Boromir emptied his quarters and put it all in Denethor's suite, packing what little amount of personal belongings his father had into one large trunk to be sorted later. When he realized how far Pippin's quarters were from the citadel apartments, he reassigned him to his own old rooms. "Make it ready for Frodo and Sam to join you. It can be honored guest quarters for hobbits and dwarves."  
  
He also had the King's quarters opened and prepared, along with a guest suite for Theoden and Eowyn. Boromir was grateful that as the heirs of Mardil had not claimed the royal title of 'King,' neither had they usurped the royal chambers. Rather they had been left empty and then, over the centuries, the delicate artworks were packed away, and the bed chambers sealed though the larger rooms continued to be used, respectfully, but only as council chambers. In the time when the Kings reigned the rooms' uses had varied at royal whim. And now, Boromir mused, what had been carefully unchanged might be, _would_ be, changed, and changed again.  
  
-*-   
  
  
"Where is his staff?" Boromir asked Beregond, at the end of an errand.   
  
They went then to the carpenter's workshop near the citadel's stables. The carpenter showed the new staff he had made, freshly painted white. He apologized that the broken staff could not be mended.   
  
Boromir assured the carpenter he had done right. "I would not use Denethor's staff even if it were whole. It was foresworn."   
  
Beregond had thought he had come only to check it was ready, but Boromir took the white staff in his hand, and said solemnly, "Until the King return" and brought it with him.   
  
There was no more ceremony. But word of his words spread quickly and Boromir was often gladly hailed as he made the city ready. "He took the new staff," each man told the next. "He named his father's oath false and had the broken wood burned."   
  
All in the city were caught between speech and keeping silent. They wanted him to stay, both Boromir as much as Elessar, Elessar the King, and Boromir his servant. Boromir almost made a jest of it, avoiding any answer. Then people were afraid and stopped the questioning, as if they had forgotten and only now remembered that until a short month before Boromir had walked among them as presumed Heir. From childhood to manhood, that had been his future.   
  
The newly returned populous was confused, for they could tell there was something amiss, though they could put no words to it. Those people of the city, who had only briefly left or who had stayed throughout the siege and who, with Boromir, had endured the shadow and Denethor's cold rule feared for their new Steward. Would it be that he would do right but his heart also break, as his father's heart had broken? Boromir himself did not know, he realized. So he tried not to think on it.   
  
-*-   
  
  
He sat often with Theoden or Eowyn, and he sat without speech. The future was soon to come, but Boromir was paused, caught -- uncertain.   
  
It seemed to Theoden that Boromir wished his advice and counsel, though the words were difficult to find. Therefore the older ruler spoke first. "Your family ruled the land in trust, until the King's return," he asked, and Boromir nodded. "You also hold the crown?" he continued.   
  
"It is in the care of those who tend the tombs."   
  
"Should you not see to that matter yourself?"  
  
"Yes." Boromir's head lowered a moment, then he met Theoden's eyes with his own.  
  
There was a pause, then Theoden smiled. "That is a first step. The next will be easier."  
  
-*-   
  
  
Early the next morning, Boromir summoned Pippin. He pointed down the stairs and outside. "I have a task for you. You will come with me and keep me honest."   
  
Boromir was pleased that Pippin had arrived wearing his guards uniform. He kept his pace slow so the hobbit did not need to hurry. They passed through the guarded doors of Rath Dinen, the first unlocked by the warden, the others by the street's silent guardians. At the street's end, under the precipice of the mountain, was the mansion of the Kings, and there was held the crown last worn by Earnur. For more than nine hundred years it had lain in wait but the jewels and metal had been kept well polished. When he lifted it, it weighed less than it seemed it should. In the dim light of the tombs, his fingers could feel detailing his blurring eyes could not see.  
  
Pippin did not need to touch the ancient metal to be awed. He had meant not to speak at all, but it was too much. "That's to be Strider's crown?"  
  
Boromir smiled as he hushed him, glad to have his company. He set the crown back down, and, in a quiet voice, ordered a box to be made that he might carry it to its owner when the time came.  
  
-*-   
  
  
Thereafter Boromir took breakfast most mornings with Theoden. One morning, when Pippin and Eowyn entered to give greetings, Theoden said to Pippin. "There are matters to see to."   
  
"I have to bring Merry's body home," Pippin answered.   
  
Theoden then said to Eowyn "After the coronation, you will accompany Pippin to the Shire, to answer his family's questions and to explain the happenings of this war, which has only lightly touched that land. You and he disobeyed my orders and rode to battle. This, I will forgive you for you saved my life, and more -- you helped kill the King Nazgul that no man could have done and so made a great blow against the Enemy. Yet, as yours was the responsibility, you must carry the news."   
  
She agreed quietly, but Pippin stirred and, at Theoden's look sputtered, "Not dressed like that!" and then struggled to explain. Eowyn was wearing a borrowed gown and looked more to be a lady of the court than a warrior. Esmeralda, Merry's mother, was quite a proper lady. The idea of war was not going to be easy for her. How could she accept a lady telling her she was in the battle that killed Merry?

Eowyn stood, and would have left the room, but Boromir motioned her to stay. "You'll have a sword" he told her, then said to Pippin, "court clothes are not riding clothes."

Pippin apologized, seeing the steel in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't want to do this. I have to." He looked at the floor and hugged himself. "Esmeralda will believe," he muttered.

It was a grim satisfaction to Eowyn in her sadness to have a reason to keep a sword. Boromir ordered traveling clothing to be made for her that was women's dress, but also in a warrior's style. 

-*-   
  
  
What happened across the river in on the field of Cormallen was rest and healing, and waiting for ample time for the news to spread so the proper actions could be made with the proper witnesses.   
  
After many days of strengthening sleep, Frodo woke to find Gandalf beside him. He thought he had gone beyond the circles of the world. Therefore, when the wizard told him Sam was there his remorse was great. His own death was of no matter for him, but Sam had done no wrong and deserved no punishment. "I killed him -- " Frodo confessed, bitter tears flowing from his eyes. "I failed you."   
  
"No, my friend," Gandalf answered gently. It took him a long time to convince Frodo they all three lived.   
  
-*-   
  
  
The next day, with Aragorn, he was told of the deaths of Legolas and Merry. It hurt too much to speak of Merry at all. He found more words for Legolas.   
  
"Gimli didn't know Gandalf had returned," Frodo said. "He didn't know Legolas had died."   
  
"Did he speak of him?"   
  
"Occasionally. He wanted his elf eyes and nimble feet to find a path down the hills by Rauros. Then ... he said he was bored and wanted his company. Did Legolas talk of Gimli?"   
  
Aragorn sighed sadly. "Once, as he died, a greeting. He hoped for all of your safety. He was unhappy, at Parth Galen, to say goodbye. Had he survived the orc attack I think he would have spoken more. But he was dead before sunset. I'm sorry."   
  
Frodo sniffled, and then shuddered with sad memory. "His eyes burned."   
  
"Gimli?" Aragorn asked.   
  
He nodded. "He said his axe was hungry and impatient. Was that battle lust? I think so. Faramir -- " His eyes filled again with tears. "He -- " He couldn't find the words. "... not the same."   
  
"His blood was cold, not hot?"   
  
Frodo nodded, looked back at Aragorn and pushed the words out. "But he still -- Isn't it? I'm not a warrior, but I've heard it said. Isn't it that hot blood makes a wound's hurt less, or not at all? The fire is so strong that it obscures all else?"   
  
"The fire has its own pain, the loss of control," Aragorn spoke gently. "The rage has been in me many times this last year. Such burning leaves deep scars, and is difficult to exit. I can understand why Faramir might not have wanted to die in that mood. To regret what he must do, rather than rejoice in a last act well done."   
  
"He forced himself. Gimli walked ahead, eager. He helped him, I think. Something shone gold on the side of his head. I don't understand that. It was Faramir's decision, but at the last, Gimli took the lead. Faramir needed his example."   
  
"We recovered Faramir's horn and Gimli's ax. They were killed not captured, or you would have been stopped. They both fought hard, by the marks that were left."   
  
"We heard the alarm. That's when Sam and I ran. The plain was empty, silent, ash choked. We heard it, orc laughter. They laughed."   
  
-*-   
  
  
When Sam woke, Aragorn and Imrahil were there, as well as Gandalf and Frodo. After Gandalf convinced Sam he was, indeed, returned, he asked questions. Frodo didn't remember much of the run across the bridge, but Sam might know more. He explained about the gold braided into Gimli's hair; it had been the use the dwarf had made of Galadriel's gift. "It gleamed, like a star. Like the glass the Lady gave Master Frodo. He shouldn't have ..." Sam paused, then his eyes filled again with tears. "No. It didn't matter. He wanted to be seen, didn't he?" He held tighter to Frodo's hand and turned his head into his pillows.   
  
"Did Faramir give you any message?" Imrahil asked quietly.   
  
Sam blinked, looking toward the voice. "I don't know you."   
  
"I am kin to Faramir."   
  
"Oh. No. I'm sorry, Lord. They said no words to us when we parted, for friends or family. We all thought we would all die. Frodo wouldn't've let them do it otherwise, would you Master Frodo?"   
  
"Don't call me 'master.' No."   
  
"I understand," Imrahil murmured. "A small hope," he smiled sadly. "He ..." he began, but stopped himself. There was a long pause, then he took his leave.   
  
Gandalf placed a hand gently across Sam's bandaged hand. "My dear hobbit." He stared a long moment, then looked away. "You should rest."  
  
Frodo also moved to leave, but Sam took his right hand with his left. "I want to see the others," Sam said, and his eyes went wide when Frodo stiffened, counting who was not present.   
  
"Pippin is fine," Gandalf said firmly, but he could give no comfort about Merry or Legolas.  
  
"I wish you could have waited till after another sleep to ask that," Frodo said as he hugged him, being careful of his bandaged hand.  
  
-*-   
  
  
Imrahil was the next courier, and he brought to Boromir, with other papers, a letter from Aragorn concerning what he had learned from Frodo and Sam. In a quiet voice he said, "This is family business," and had Boromir clear his afternoon. Imrahil started towards the steward's quarters, but Boromir halted in the court and motioned for the letter. His uncle handed it over reluctantly, repeating that he had been there when Sam spoke of the path from Henneth Annun and Faramir's last hours.   
  
Boromir broke the seal on the letter. It was written in Elessar's hand. After a brief greeting and expression of sorrow, the lettering changed, as if the writer had paused for several moments choosing the words. _The guardcastle was at full strength,_ the message began.   
  
He pushed down the images and could read no more. _Brother!_ Shaking off his uncle's hand he walked blindly forward. He knew the euphemism for what it was, even if Elessar had not used the traditional words. _There is no way to be sure,_ the grieving family would be told, _but the circumstances suggest --_ Thus it had been for too many of the fallen, the long years of this war. The Guardcastle was full, and they died. Quickly, as was their intent, but in the presence of too many orcs, in a place that was a dessert of stone. Bones, it must have been: shattered and burnt. Up to the citadal walls he went, gazing South, not East, and he searched in vain for healing memories.   
  
-*-   
  
  
Eowyn and Pippin came looking for Boromir, for they heard a rumor he was pacing the walls in great distress. Imrahil sat in guard at the sole entrance to where he was and would not let them enter.   
  
"He does not want company. When he is ready, he will ask. He would have given everything for his brother's safe return. He died. Still he must give all."  
  
Eowyn then asked Imrahil if Sam had relayed any messages, and Imrahil had to say there were none, for no one had expected for any to live to bring such messages out. Faramir had prayed for Frodo and Sam to be rescued, so the Eagles reported, and that was the last of what could be known of the two who died. Galadriel had sent the Eagles to Mordor after she heard Faramir's prayer in a dream.  
  
The conversation was difficult for Imrahil to say and it looked to be that he also wished for solitude, but would have no one else guard the last of his sister's family. The manner of Boromir's reaction had an equal effect on the prince, for he loved his nephews dearly. And he well remembered how he had felt at the death of his sister, their mother. Until Boromir found his voice, lmrahil likewise lost his. Silently Boromir paced the citadel walls in the places the older residents soon recognized as the haunts the brothers had walked as children. He occasionally spoke to his uncle, and once to Eowyn, but he was mostly alone. It was two days before people other than his staff could dare approach him.   
  
=== end chapter ===   
  



	24. Negotiations

Then on a day in May, tents were set up in the Pelennor a long distance from the walls, and the entrance to the city was closed. The guards would let no one in or out as preparations were made. Under the cover of darkness, Boromir crossed the gap and was taken to Aragorn's tent, as he was expected.  
  
"I have dreamed, Lord."  
  
Aragorn turned. Boromir didn't know the sudden pain those words gave, the same words Faramir had spoken that morning on the river. "Yes?"  
  
"My brother's dream, to seek for the sword that was broken. It was gift from the West. They are pleased." Boromir smiled sadly. "He gave me joy." Then he made a bitter shrug, turning away to gaze at the pavilion wall. "Denethor again disowned me."   
  
"When?"  
  
"The night before his body died." He carefully did not say "father." "He cursed my brother the morning he left for Imladris, he cursed me the day we marched to the Black Gate. He entered my dream after the prophecy was done and said the same again to both of us. I do not know if he was always so cruel, but he died so."  
  
From the back, Aragorn put a hand on his shoulder. "That is hard, for memory."  
  
Boromir was weary. His sleep the last several days had been fitful. He found again a place where he could sit and speak without looking at Aragorn's face. "It would have been better, if one of us must die, that I had died and he lived -- not only for Eowyn's sake." _Once I put the crown on his head it would not be right for me to say such things._ "Forgive me, this is not easy. He could have served you better."  
  
"Your blood wars against itself."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You have and you will serve with honor. I would rather have you both alive."  
  
His answer was laughter, a sound somewhere between longing and frustration. "I make my life hard. I could, like the city, be joyful. Honor is comfort." He breathed in deeply. "What is to be done?"  
  
-*-  
  
  
Frodo had paced himself to complete his work in sufficient time, but he hadn't counted on quite so many interruptions from the tailors and seamstresses so he was only now tying off the binding, and putting on finishing touches. The text was only a single quire of pages, luckily, so sewing and tying would suffice and no glue was necessary to make a proper hobbit smallbook. Anything larger he would not have attempted.  
  
When Boromir had returned to Minas Tirith, he had sent a clerk, a sheaf of paper, a humble request, and Faramir's book along with healers, kitchen and stable boys, tenting and supplies back to those who camped at Cormallen. He begged of Frodo that he would dictate to the clerk the translation he and Faramir had made of the elvish poem during their river voyage. Frodo was glad to do this, both for the sake of the brothers, and also because he knew Bilbo would want a copy of the original. For the first step, he asked the clerk to make a copy of the Quenya words with a wide space between the lines. He then began to tell the Westron words to put between. Within a short time he regained enough strength that he could do the writing himself. These worksheets he would bring back with him to Rivendell and then the Shire. He reserved enough sheets to make the fair copy for Boromir, and asked the clerk to have made a blue-dyed sheet of parchment cut to the needed size for the binding. He had finished the lettering before the camp was packed for travel. Earlier in the day they had arrived and set up tents inside the broken walls of the Pelennor, and Frodo made his final check of the text and folded the sheets and the parchment cover together. He punched holes in the crease and used a bone needle to thread in the linen cord. He had not yet met the Steward, knew him only from his brother's stories, but he thought Boromir might have a hard day of it tomorrow and if he could put the two books into his hands, that might give a bit of comfort.  
  
But Sam was of the opinion he had neglected his dinner and entered the tent awkwardly carrying a wooden plate filled with an appetizing selection of apple slices, cheese, and sweetbread. The plate and the tent flap required two good hands and he was losing food to the ground.  
  
"Sam! What are you doing?" Frodo put down his work. "You should have asked for help."  
  
"Master, I don't need any help," he answered tartly, and then continued muttering. "I'm supposed to be helping you, fine help I'm able to give you, with all these people fussing over me, getting in my way. What do I want? I want peace and quiet."  
  
Frodo rescued the plate and the food before he scolded. He tried to keep it mild, but Sam's obstinacy made him increasingly testy. "Don't call me 'Master.' I've got two good hands, you should let me use them!"  
  
"It's not right. Don't you do this, fussing on me."  
  
"Sam, you're a hero, you've saved us all. You're hurt, you shouldn't keep fighting us about this."  
  
"I'm no hero, it was the Lady. It's not right you should be serving me like you do."  
  
"I won't stop. So it would be better for you to accept what won't change."  
  
Sam put the offending hand into as much of a fist as he could manage. "This is nothing. I'll be fine. For months and years that evil Ring was gnawing at you from the inside out. You shouldn't pretend it didn't."  
  
Frodo eyes went dark and his voice became quietly intense. What Sam said was true; he would be soon healed well enough. It would take a longer time for Frodo, but it would be possible, if he did not let his thoughts stray. "Yes I was hurt. Yes, it still hurts. When I help you, that helps me forget."  
  
"Master -- "  
  
" _Don't_ \-- " He turned away. "You hurt me when you name me that, can't you see? I wanted to be _Master_ , I claimed it for my own."  
  
"You didn't -- "  
  
"You tricked me. Like Bilbo tricked Gollum. But not alike." He held to that. _Bilbo gave It up, with help. So can I._ "You did not take the Ring from me by force. Somewhere down in my heart I knew you were lying when you told me, 'Take it off, keep it safe.' I knew your intention was to unmake it. Deep down, I knew. If I _truly_ wanted to keep the ring, I would have to fight _you_ as well as the wraiths. So I didn't want it." He whispered. "I don't."  
  
"It's evil, Mas-- Mr. Frodo."  
  
"Yes. It was," he said forcefully. "Evil, and _gone_ , and I'm glad, Sam. Thank you."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Knowing Boromir's good intent, Aragorn choose to let him find the path through tradition easiest for his heart to bear. Boromir would bring the crown outside the gate, and speak to those who watched. Aragorn would be crowned Elessar. Boromir confirmed Steward, and all lords ride up to the citadel.   
  
Yet even those few words were more than he could gracefully deal with. In the middle of an awkward silence, unpleased that his voice was in rebellion, Boromir looked at the floor as he asked, "Do you yet want me, am I fit to be Steward?"  
  
"You said you would stay, and I was glad. Where else in Gondor could Boromir be but in the seat of Mardil?"  
  
He covered his face with his hands and said nothing.  
  
Aragorn waited. Finally he stood, stepped close and put a hand on one shoulder. "Boromir?"  
  
" 'The hands of the King are the hands of a healer'?" His breath dragged in, shuttering. "I need to be healed. I have not slept in days." But he did not lower his hands nor look into Aragorn's eyes, though Aragorn waited a long time for him to do that.  
  
Sighing, he released Boromir's shoulder and sat back on his heels, and he now looked up at the other man's face, a few inches higher than his. At the moment the touch was removed Boromir lowered his hands and opened his eyes.  
  
"I would do more harm than good," Aragorn said. "You resist."  
  
Boromir licked his dry lips, then answered, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to."  
  
"I know." He stood and returned to his chair, and changed the subject. "I would I could give Sam his due," he said ruefully, "but I fear he will run in terror and embarrassment if he is not well guarded. I will ride with Sam before me, and Frodo shall ride before Gandalf."  
  
== end chapter ==


	25. The Coronation

Boromir did not rise from bed until his esquire came to wake him. He had returned late in the darkness after meeting with Aragorn and had spent the night hoping for sleep that did not come. He had stared at the ceiling though he wanted to be up and pacing. Someone might see and he had had his fill of gossips and whispering. Finally free to move, Boromir ate a light breakfast then slowly dressed.  
  
He returned to the Silent Street and brought out the box holding the winged crown. The box was of black wood and inlaid with silver, which gleamed brightly as he moved from shade to sun, emerging from the tomb and into the street. It was the First of May and flowers bloomed to celebrate the occasion.  
  
The esquire waited for Boromir at the main street, holding his horse. The white rod of the Stewards was attached by loop to his saddle. The man used his free hand to guard that Boromir did not loose hold of the box as he scrambled onto the steed. Boromir nodded his thanks, then headed for the entrance to the third circle and down. The staff was new, the crown was ancient. The Stewards had ruled for nearly a thousand years, he for a handful of weeks. It was the end of an age.  
  
-*-  
  
  
"It will be all right." Hurin and Imrahil stood at their places, waiting.  
  
"What is going to happen?"  
  
Imrahil laughed. "I don't know."  
  
"This is the most important -- "  
  
"Of course it is. Nothing can go wrong."  
  
" 'Follow his lead' -- That's not a ceremony! He should have told me more. How can I do my part if he won't -- "  
  
"Peace, Hurin. This isn't distrust. I don't think Boromir knows."  
  
He snorted. "That's no comfort."  
  
"You're alive and the City rejoices. At Yule, could you have foreseen this?"  
  
"'The Return of the King' -- and I don't know right from left. It will be a madhouse."  
  
"I was there, at the Black Gate, as was Boromir, when the doors open and the tide of Sauron's army surged around us. We were ready to die, and lived. Did you ever stand ready to die?"  
  
The panic in his voice quieted a measure. "Yes, when we lost Poros the last time."  
  
"The man at your shoulder, could he ever do you wrong?" Hurin shook his head. "This bond is battle-forged."  
  
-*-  
  
  
The rough barrier at the broken gate was covered with flowers. Boromir smiled at that, and the crowds of suddenly silent people on either side. He motioned that the gate should be opened, and rode through. It was closed behind him. Hurin reached up to take the box and Boromir pulled the staff out of its loop to give to Imrahil, and dismounted. The Tower Warden looked as if he wanted to ask questions again. He refrained, and Boromir credited that to the Prince's influence. He was grateful for his uncle's support.  
  
To the north of the barrier, King Theoden sat on the chair that had been brought out for him. Eowyn stood on one side and Elfhelm on the other. Behind and to the left stood the rest of the Rohirrim and Gondorian armsmen who had stayed to defend the City. To the south of the gate more of the city's inhabitants and visitors gathered in less order.  
  
Boromir paced quickly to greet King Theoden, then returned to reclaim the box from Hurin, and motioned to Imrahil to walk with him. A small table had been placed a distance out from the barrier. Boromir put the box with the crown upon it, then took his staff from Imrahil and waited.  
  
From the tents marched the returning host, line upon line. They mustered facing the city wall and barrier, so there was a wide empty space where the two waited in the center.  
  
Boromir looked at the host, remembering the oath of service he had already sworn to Elessar in bright sunlight, above the healer's camp. He motioned Imrahil close, as they had discussed earlier. "Be ready, if my voice fails me."  
  
"Yes, kinsman."  
  
From a gap at the center of the line the Dunedain walked forward, silver and grey, with Aragorn at the head. Gandalf and Eomer were with him, and the two hobbits, Sam and Frodo.  
  
As Aragorn neared the table Boromir stepped close to meet him. "My Lord, you have returned."  
  
"I have come to claim my rule."  
  
Boromir nodded, then raised his voice to speak also to the host. "I accept your word and the truth of many signs that have been given. Yet for the satisfaction of all the people of Gondor that have waited let proofs be said." He then turned and addressed the crowd that watched. "I am Boromir son of Denethor. Denethor was Steward not King, and by his oath that I am bound, he ruled only 'until the return of the King'." There was a low rumble of muffled cheers.  
  
"And now in this day and hour," Boromir continued in the same strong voice, "one has come to claim the kingship at last. He is Aragorn son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dunedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Numenor. Shall he be our King?" Thus he renewed his oath to his people, that he would let them make his answer, that he and they were bound. And they answered _Yea_ with one voice.  
  
Boromir then turned to the table and the black wooden box wherein was Alcarin's crown, last worn by Earnur. As Boromir opened it and saw the crown for the first time in bright sunlight, he was near overwhelmed. The shining silver wings, strong and delicate, the weight of history, made to evoke the glory of He and His sons that had come to this shore from Numenor, he held a legend in his hands.  
  
And out of legend was the man that stood before him -- Blood of kings, he was come, returning at the sign and will of the Valar. Standing before that man -- at once symbol and bringer of new hope -- Boromir felt out of place, acutely aware of the weakness of his limbs, born of too many sleepless nights. He raised the crown up and outwards. Eyes lowered, he snapped them up to focus on his hands, the metal's edge, held a scant hand's breath above the dark hair. _Elessar!_ A shaky breathe drawn in.  
  
_Don't, don't, don't, don't, don't, don't, don't,_ his blood roared, the Oath sang. _Don't, don't, don't, don't drop it._  
  
His hands were steady, but everything else trembled. His hands lowered. Crowned, the roar of the crowd, he let go, his eyes met Aragorn's for a moment as the joyful sound washed over them. His knees collapsed; he turned it to kneeling. Imrahil knelt behind him. On those motions, the rest of his subjects there also knelt. Eomer and the Rohirrim who watched remained standing, likewise those messangers from the Northern realms, east of the Misty Mountains.  
  
Imrahil had stepped closer as he kneeled, and put a hand on Boromir's back. _He's concerned. I don't blame him._ Boromir stared at the ground, and gulped in air as if he had been drowning. _I had not planned to do this. Yet should I not kneel to my King?_  
  
If Aragorn or his uncle said any word, he could not hear it. It was a long minute for the crowds to kneel, for they were packed dense and there was much jostling. Then Imrahil asked quietly if Boromir could stand now, and Boromir signaled assent with a twitch of his head. Imrahil pressed upwards with the hand on his back in the moment before he withdrew it and Boromir's legs responded to that prompting to lift himself back to standing. He turned to the crowd. "All hail -- " he began. It was a horse croak; his voice had been spent.  
  
So Imrahil called it. "All hail the King!" There was another joyful roar.  
  
"Boromir."  
  
He turned, saw his King's face and remembered the last matter. He took the white staff from the table and, with better control, knelt again. With both hands he held up the staff. "I surrender my office," he said in a cracked whisper.  
  
Aragorn took hold at the center and Boromir released and lowered his hands though he still looked up. The King's face was solemn, but in his eyes were many more emotions, joy above all. Aragorn kept the staff held outwards. "Well have you performed your duties. Will you accept this office back, in the name of yourself and your heirs, for your honor and in honor of our people?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
Aragorn's words could be heard, but not Boromir's. Therefore were the watchers silent until he lifted his hands and there was happy cheer as he retook the staff and stood.  
  
  
  
-*-  
  
  
Frodo and Sam waited behind Aragorn with Gandalf. The Dunedain and Elrond's sons stood close beyond that. Aragorn turned and knealt -- the crowd's cheering softened into a buzz of puzzled questioning.  
  
He took one each of their hands in his. "Sam, Frodo," he said to them. "It has been a long road."  
  
Frodo laughed as he stared in amazement at the crown, and thought of the poem Bilbo had written. "Now you glitter, Strider!"  
  
"But not with gold," the King answering laugh was both joyful and sad. "You must tell your dear uncle you said that on this day! I wish he could be here with us now." The murmur from those who watched continued. "I have already thanked you many times for your successful completion of your quest, but they have not," he nodded back at the crowd. "My people have given me welcome. I want them now to make a large noise for you."  
  
Sam was already blushing furiously. Frodo held his wrist tightly so he could not move.  
  
"This will be over soon and I will not ask you to speak." Aragorn said further, then he released their hands and circled behind them, and spread his arms wide, signaling for silence. "My people -- " he called. The crowd hushed. "As you have welcomed me, I wish you to welcome these honored guests. It was by these brave halflings that we all have been saved. I know well the sorrow that every one of us bears for those who have died. By the work of these two we have victory in truth, not uncertain respite, for Sauron is thrown down!" Again, the crowd roared.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Then there was a time of disorder, as the procession was made ready. Theoden had been carried down in a poled chair to save this strength, but he would ride up. Those not in the procession scrambled back through the now-open gate to find a watching point along the zigzag route.  
  
There was a touch on Boromir's arm. He turned. Aragorn smiled at him, and he echoed it back. _He's happy, I'm happy -- I didn't let it fall! I still may trip, but it won't be noticed, won't matter. I passed the test. A new age has begun._  
  
There was more, there were words. It was a fog he knew he would not be able to remember. " _Hai_ for Bilbo!" one of the sons of Elrond called merrily, and then he began to half sing, half chant a song that could not have been elven, not for the words nor the language:

_All that is Gold does not glitter,  
Not all those who wander are lost --_

It was odd hearing Westron words sung in such a silver voice. The wizard Gandalf introduced him to the heroes. He had not yet met the Ring-destroyers. He muttered words of welcome. He forgot to notice -- no, his mind was too muddled to learn it -- which name belonged to which halfling. Musterings. Hurin and Imrahil had seen to that: some companies had barracks in the city, rearrangement of the campsites. Who should enter, who should wait ...  
  
The horses were brought up from the city entrance, and Imrahil guided Boromir to his. Aragorn claimed Sam to ride before him and Frodo went with Gandalf. "Are you well?" Imrahil asked.  
  
Boromir shook his head sharply. "I may faint," he answered roughly, and laughed without humor. He was glad to see Pippin waiting for him, in his black uniform. "This procession will be till noon." He took two deep breaths before mounting.  
  
"Take care for yourself," Imrahil told him. He gave Pippin an order to keep alert, then lifted the hobbit up to sit before the newly sworn Steward.  
  
-*-  
  
  
Eomer was last to mount, having first aided Theoden. They had waited until the last, for the signal that all was ready. Aragorn's party was at the front. Boromir was content to have the Rohirrim Royalty ride next and then Dol Amroth, before he took his place. The cheering never stopped. Banners, garlands, he had never seen the like.  
  
He became aware of Pippin pinching his wrist -- at the same time he heard voices calling his name -- he looked over to see a group of armsmen, with wives and children. One child of six or eight years, was waving and screaming in front of a soldier he knew, one who came to fight four years before, but left his family in the south. "You are Hennel?!" Boromir called and waved, his voice cracked and ragged. "Welcome!" He was answered with a happy cheer.  
  
Boromir wouldn't and couldn't take joy for himself, but took it for his happy people. The rule he had been looking toward would have been harsh and bitter, full of worry for their safety. _How many grim-faced soldiers would I have sent out to die, for the sake of the rest, living under shadow?_ He was glad he was mounted and not walking. Slowly the roaring in his ears subsided, leaving him bone weary, but able to see the crowd clearly without having to strain his thought.  
  
Prince Imrahil had sent word ahead and when the procession reached its end Beregond was waiting. He took Boromir through a near door and there was a cot there. He lay down and was instantly asleep.  
  
== end chapter ==  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has intermittent JRRT quotes, specifically the first lines of Bilbo's poem for Strider from FotR, and from the chapter "The Steward and the King." The third paragraph of Boromir speaking to the host and crowd is a lightly changed quote of RotK, except Faramir's speech ended "Shall he be king and enter into the City and dwell there?"  
>   
> For comparison, the order of the coronation in the RotK chapter is thus: Aragorn approached, Faramir surrendered, Aragorn returned the staff and told him, 'do now thy office.' Faramir asked the host and the crowd, and gave the crown to Aragorn, who involves Frodo and Gandalf in the crowning, but not Faramir.
> 
> The name Hennel is non-canonical.


	26. Celebrations

Late in the afternoon, Boromir woke with difficulty. Someone was shaking his shoulder.  
  
"The banquet will start soon," Beregond apologized. "You are expected."  
  
"Pippin?" Boromir asked in a groggy voice.  
  
"He spoke to your uncle, then joined the other halflings."  
  
"I need fresh clothing."   
  
Beregond helped him to stand, then walked in attendance. Boromir took an unexpected turn and they were on top of the encircling wall, looking down at the lower circles. "Something I saw," he explained. "Something we've seen these long years, and with sorrow. The empty houses will be filled now. There are many families that stayed, brave soldier's widows and children who deserve better houses higher up."  
  
-*-  
  
  
At the feast that evening Boromir was not at his place and this was much noted. But, midway, he entered with Beregond. No one at the lower tables had seen their entrance, but there was soon a nervous buzz of conversation and everyone looked. Boromir spoke to the king, and neither seemed upset. Elassar waved a second guard who then left with Beregond as Boromir sat. Later, there was more low consultation. The absence then was not an insult or Boromir too upset to attend, but rather the King's business. A sense of approval worked its way down the hall, and smiles were broader.  
  
Boromir sat in his place to Aragorn's left; the chair had been sitting empty. Pippin in the seat next gave greeting, and they exchanged a few comments concerning nothing in particular, then Boromir remembered his puzzlement earlier in the day, and asked for an explanation of the puzzling conversation between the King and Frodo, after the coronation, and the fragment of the odd song he had heard.  
  
Pippin laughed, once he understood what Boromir was speaking of. Boromir, now rested, had a full recitation of the poem, and some more stories about Bilbo and Pippin's adventures before the Council, and Faramir joining the quest. "We were all scared, though worse came later," he said. "Even so, Strider did what he could to keep our spirits up ... " His voice trailed off and his face looked suddenly upset.  
  
"Pippin? What's wrong?"  
  
Pippin shook his head. "I'm sorry. It hurts too much. Back then, we didn't understand. When he was still alive to ask, he would have called it happy memories, all the times we sat on hard ground 'round a fire. I've been sitting here almost two hours with empty chairs."  
  
Boromir drew back, as if from unexpected attack.  
  
"No, it's not that!" Pippin said hastily. "Not your seat, you're here! You came late, but there's others who won't come at all. Gandalf's at the table," he pointed. "Strider, Frodo, Sam and me." He put down first one hand then the other on either side of his tall-legged seat. "I want Merry here," his left side. "I want Faramir here," on his right side, between him and Boromir. Boromir closed his eyes and swallowed, hard.  
  
Pippin nodded, and continued. He gestured further down the table, though Boromir listened only and didn't see the motion. "I want Legolas and Gimli there -- and wouldn't that be a sight for the rest to see, an elf and dwarf together. After Lorien, I didn't think it odd at all. I miss my friends."  
  
Boromir's eyes opened, looking on memory. "I miss my brother."  
  
"I know this is a wonderful day and everyone is happy. But I've had enough, sir. If I can't have a smoke and a talk with Merry, and I can't, I'd just rather crawl into bed and have a good cry."  
  
"I would also find comfort of that. Yet I fear we must stay here a while longer, though I think you could leave earlier than I; I have given the gossips much to conjecture about and so must make amends."  
  
"What was that?" Pippin wiped his eyes and nodded toward Aragorn. "What did you tell him? He had expected you at the beginning. He said neither we should wait nor would he let Hurin rearrange the seats."  
  
"Something I noticed ..." Boromir took a deep breath, postponing emotion for later. "It was on the slow procession through the circles, movement in a house long empty. Though I had to sleep before it came clear to me. There was no one in the windows cheering. It was a family disagreement, and one of two cousins taking advantage of the coronation distraction to 'reclaim' an abandoned house on the fourth circle. In leaving, their grandfather forfeited. It is the King's now to do what he wills."  
  
Pippin laughed. "That was bold, what he did. And foolish!"  
  
"Yes." Boromir grinned in satisfaction. "I caught him in his dishonorable act and he would rather run in shame, but I ordered to him to stay in the city. I do not think he will try to disobey."  
  
Pippin laughed, and they turned their attention back to the feast. Boromir was unobtrusively pointing out various people that he knew to Pippin, telling stories. "Huh, where's Frodo?" the younger hobbit interrupted to say. Boromir glanced over and could see neither Frodo nor Sam.  
  
The mystery was solved a few minutes later when Boromir felt the gardener tugging on his sleeve. Boromir turned around to find both of them behind his chair. Frodo was carrying two small books. The older one Boromir knew very well, and his heart clenched at its return.  
  
"You have finished eating, haven't you?" Frodo asked shyly. "I brought these for you. Everyone was telling me this wasn't the right time or place, but I wanted you to have these tonight." Boromir took them carefully. "For your comfort."  
  
"Yes," he answered. "Thank you."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," Sam said. "We both -- Well, it was too much ash for tears, sir, but we cried for them in our hearts. Days and days."  
  
"You never stopped, Lady bless you," he said quietly, daring to open the pages. "Not until your quest was done. What gift could I give you in return?"  
  
"Your smile is thanks enough, Boromir," Frodo answered. "This was a healing task."  
  
"Still, I shall find you a gift. Another book, perhaps?" He leaned closer, "and I'll ask you help on what to give brave Samwise." Frodo grinned and Sam blushed. "Thank you, again." Frodo nodded then they both went back to their seats.   
  
Pippin watched as Boromir turned the pages, reading snatches of the westron translation. "They kept the rhyming pattern intact, I think." Boromir observed hesitantly. He had little experience with poetry beyond excerpts his brother would read to him.  
  
"They were two of a kind with their poems. It was three, in Rivendell, with Bilbo. He'll be sad to hear that part of the story. He liked your brother quite a lot."  
  
"I'll be sad to watch you leave, Pippin. You have been a great help to me."  
  
Pippin looked down, the celebration leaving him behind once more. He had to bring Merry's body home, so he would leave before the others. He was sick for home, sick with grief, sad to be leaving his new friends behind. "Have you slept?" he asked, again looking towards a Steward's well-being.  
  
"Four hours this afternoon. Very little before that."  
  
"Why didn't you ask help of the healers?"  
  
Boromir blew out his breath, and spoke in a whisper. "I was afraid of unintended poison. Father willed his own death. That was not what I wanted. Even if I would have rather death, it would be shameful ingratitude to put such an insult on Elessar's just reward. Gondor lives, unshadowed. I am glad he is King, finally, and I no longer need mistrust myself."  
  
"Are you going to be all right? Can you endure being Steward with a King on the throne?"  
  
"You have my father's voice," Boromir laughed quietly and long, "But are gentle with it. I will miss you, Peregrin Took. I have a mind, by your oath, that I should order you to return ... but this is not your home, alas. I expect letters!"  
  
-*-  
  
  
"Don't cry, Lady," Sam said. "He did not want you to cry."  
  
"No, he did not," she answered. The tears still fell, though Eowyn held herself quiet. She and Pippin would be leaving soon, within the week. Prince Imrahil had softened his report more than she realized, but the hobbit Sam did not have his courtier's skills.  
  
Faramir had told Sam, on the borders of Mordor, that he had wished he could unsay his promise. Out of pity, surely, for he would soon die. _Yet ... better if he had never kissed me? There were so many days and nights in Edoras that was all, it seemed, that kept me sane -- that thin hope._   
  
Sam, seeing her reaction, wept and begged apology. "I was selfish, lady. I hurt so bad about losing Rosie and never speaking. He'd done what I wish I'd done. ... I should have let him talk about you. Told him you wanted him to speak. He'd've been hurting awful as I was, me telling myself I should have spoken. I'll be gone a year or more before I get home, and she'll not want to speak with me." Then he chided himself for being selfish again, but he couldn't help it. "I've lost her, never had her. Another mess I put myself into, and I rue this the worst."  
  
Frodo tried to disagree, but Sam wouldn't hear it. "Shouldn't we all go home with Merry?" he nearly begged. "I want to go home. Now." Gaffer would put the world to right.  
  
"Strider doesn't want us to leave yet." Frodo said softly. "Gandalf's not done here, and he wants him with us. Elrond will be here soon, and he wants him to look at your hand."  
  
He agreed unhappily. "Whatever you say, Mr. Frodo."  
  
Frodo pulled Pippin aside as the others left, promising to get a letter from Sam. "I will make him write to Rosie, as well as his Gaffer. I don't think his suit is as lost as he's afraid of."  
  
"No, she _was_ looking."   
  
"Before we left?"  
  
"Merry told me, after you took the boats across the lake. I don't want to tell Sam now, he's so upset, so far from home. He might take good news as being bad. He might take guilt that Merry died, if I try to tell this to him now: Rosie was worried, and wanted Merry to make sure her Sam didn't get hurt. But she didn't like him going away so long. And back then, we thought we'd be back before Yule, not gone a whole year."  
  
"Yes," Frodo agreed, "This would not be good to tell him now, but I am glad to know. I'll help him write that letter, and you send messages back our way, as soon as you know."  
  
-*-  
  
  
Boromir followed Eowyn to an empty courtyard. "Please be kind," he asked. One hand hovered at her back. He wanted to touch her, but was unsure of her response. "He didn't want to die; he therefore grieved. I think he was expecting a quieter end when he said that, still he saw no way home. He wanted you happy."  
  
"Did he give me to you then?" She looked up at him and her eyes went hard for a moment. "Do you, Boromir, want me, or is this for your brother's sake?"  
  
His answering look could not quite be called surprise. He sat next to her and considered his words. "I would have you for my wife, if you would have me."  
  
"Should I forsake my love?" _Does he wait for me? Should I narrow my life on that promise, and live all my days a widow? If he did not die with my name in his heart, will I find him at my death?_  
  
"I have my brother's blessing on this."  
  
"And he is not here to ask." She tried to make her tone light. "Perhaps you are not a neutral party in this matter! You did not answer my question."  
  
He returned her smile. "Would you put me in a trap, my lady? If I say either 'yes' or 'no', I will be in the wrong. I know what Faramir hoped, when he could believe his hope was possible."  
  
"I wish to know _your_ heart."  
  
"Then I answer, 'I know not'." He smiled at her look of disbelief, and considered his response. "In years before I did not look to marry because of the war that would come. I did not want to make sons for the orcs to kill." His eyes closed briefly. "My father seemed of like mind, for he made no alliance negotiations ... But now ... I heed an heir." He touched her face, voice lower, "I want a wife."  
  
Eowyn stopped the kiss, which had begun awkwardly. Yet she did not let him withdraw. Her face was on his chest as she remembered. Faramir's kiss had begun with the same soft touch of lips, but he had soon pressed forward when she did not withdraw, a barely heard laugh deep in his throat. Or had she pressed into him to gain that reaction?  
  
 _Boromir and I ... do not know our minds._ So the kiss had remained insubstantial. Already she had spent days more time with him than she had had with his brother, unless she counted the nights she spent dreaming in hope.  
  
Boromir tightened his arm around her shoulders, and they sat in silence until the next bell rang. There was much for each of them to do.   
  
=== end chapter ===


	27. The Road North

It was an odd sight for these lands, but it would become more common in the future. The party that acompanied Eowyn and Pippin were four Rhorrim knights who spoke Westron and two northern rangers. _Nine,_ Pippin thought sadly, _if you count Merry in his coffin. We didn't have ten horses, though. Just poor Bill._ Riding made conversation more difficult than walking, Pippin decided. He usually rode with Eowyn or one of the Rangers. Halmin, their guide, had often guarded the Shire borders, so he had an ear for old gossip and old tales. Eowyn often had old tales as well, but not this day.  
  
"You are pensive," he ventured, late on the silent morning. It was a day, like many on this trip, where there was nothing but endless stone and grass before them.  
  
  
She did not like where her thoughts had taken her. "I have lost him," she at last spoke aloud. "Faramir took this same road last year, though in hope, not sorrow. Soon enough we will turn aside for the Shire, seeing never Imladris. It is hard to sort out how much was true."  
  
"Faramir wanted it to be true."  
  
She shook her head. _I refused to forsake him, … and Meriodoc is dead. It is_ I _who was forsaken._  
  
"Before he saw his death, yes he did," Pippin insisted. "We all saw it. After -- he wanted what was best for you. I'm sorry the war broke what could have been."  
  
There was a long silence before she spoke. "I could have died and joined him, but by his last prayers he wished me life."  
  
"There are many that would mourn your death."  
  
"Indeed. Myself not the least!"  
  
  
  
"Boromir is looking," Pippin said, after a time, for it seemed her mood had lightened enough for him to satisfy his curiosity.  
  
"I know. He asked."  
  
Pippin paused, puzzled. "Why is that something to laugh about?"  
  
" 'If what I felt for Faramir was love,' I told his brother, 'I do not want to forsake him.' He said he had his brother's blessing in this, but I don't have Faramir to ask. I therefore challenged him, and he chided me for my question, for it would be difficult to answer well. Even so, I insisted."  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"What he says Faramir would have answered. 'I know not'." She shrugged, unconvinced. "He wants me most as friend. Or he thinks that safest to say. He may want me more as wife, but will not risk to lose me entirely."  
  
She seemed uncertain in her mind. "How did you answer?"  
  
"I didn't. 'Marriage' would be a different matter were it not for the question of children. That's what Faramir said, in Mordor, wishing for the sun. That I was a temptation -- wife and children -- to turn him from the path he must walk, a wish he must let go. And was he only temptation to me? Someone who could attack Wormtongue who risked only himself? Someone without family vulnerable to revenge if he failed? Ah, Faramir, my love. Now I doubt my own heart."  
  
"But ... I don't understand. Why is 'children' something to make you close your heart?"  
  
"Would I had been born a man." She tensed, and clutched her arm more closely across Pippin's chest. " 'Children' is a reason I disobeyed my King and took Merry to his death," she confessed, her voice thick, "though I should not say that to his kin. If Theoden would die, I would die with him. I had stood at his side so many years. I did not want the duty that would come if he and Eomer died, it seemed sure to be so, and I lived."  
  
"You did not want to be Queen?"  
  
" 'No queen has ever ruled the Eorlingas,' is what I told Merry," she laughed bitterly. "He thought I could be First Queen … But neither of us wanted to speak of that, to think King and Brother dead. But had Igil or Elfhelm stopped me and the worst happened – yes, I would have claimed to rule. But in that dark time, I could not imagine that escape. So I took Merry to his death."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"By marriage I would make my husband King, so he must be of the Mark – That was the dread. Even if Faramir had somehow lived and found his way back. He had gone into Mordor, Aragorn told me. If the war had not broken his promise then it would have surely broken mine. For it would have been the elders who would choose our King from among themselves. It would have been my duty not my choice to give our new king children."  
  
She breathed in deep, pushing aside the visions of prison walls that haunted her. "Too many men have looked my way, seeing only flesh. Wormtongue lusted for it. He would contrive to touch me, any way he could, in a way I could not complain. But even through cloth, he defiled me, and always with his eyes. And when he was sent away it was others that took his place, for Theodred was dead. They did not see me, but the royal blood of my male children.  
  
"Now Eomer can make his own heir, and I am free. But I would be bound again to children, if I marry any man."  
  
Pippin began to speak, and then thought better of it.  
  
"Yes," Eowyn answered, and forced herself not to flinch. Pippin would feel it. "Faramir also spoke of children ... yet that was more a consequence of love than its purpose. But now in Gondor they will want the line of Mardil to continue."  
  
"Yet Boromir could choose otherwise."  
  
That made a long silence, for Eowyn could think of no high-born man that did not presume fatherhood for his future, and Boromir had already said such. But "need" and "want" were not the same. "What prompts this speculation?"  
  
"Denethor," he answered. "I didn't know him long and I can't look into someone's thoughts as some others ... but he did speak often when Strider was gone to challenge Sauron, and I think I can put the thoughts together. Denethor would die rather than surrender, and he'd mean that for his blood. Boromir could debase himself and good riddance, but as Boromir's blood is also Denethor's blood, that part of his father's spirit that remains to walk through his quarters would not be pleased for grandchildren."  
  
"But the ghost would suffer Boromir to serve?"  
  
"Whether or no, Boromir would do it," he laughed. "So Denethor had no choice of that. But children raised in the court of an usurper king could not fully choose, could they?"  
  
" _Pippin!_ "  
  
"I swore my oath to Denethor, not Boromir nor Aragorn," he said hotly, then relented. "That's Denethor's thinking, not mine. And wasn't my place to tell him he was wrong. Though he was. So I think I know well enough what he's saying to Boromir." He sighed in frustration. "I liked him, I don't know why. I meant my oath, as much as Merry did. But Merry found the Lord with the better heart. No one else understands either, I don't think, but they keep telling me they're glad I was there. I cried when he died."  
  
"You're right," she said hesitantly, wondering what to say. "There was so much celebration of the victory there was little room for grief."  
  
Pippin snorted at the evasion. "You know, I chose my oath to him; I wasn't born to it. I was not born in his lands. I might be the only one."  
  
"As he was a hard man, I think he used that for his advantage. But I believe he also found value of your oath in his heart, as much as he was capable."  
  
"Yes. For that, I will forgive him much."  
  
"But he does not forgive Boromir."  
  
Pippin shrugged. "I think he would say, the treason was too deep. And his son would say the same of him. Boromir is Aragorn's Steward and he chooses every day, chooses to serve, and every day his honor tells him the right choice -- And if it is you are his child's mother, have a care of this matter! Have the child know it's none of his own fault, but a ghost from the past. Or if you stay Faramir's widow and keep the older brother as kin only and he chooses another, warn them both. I don't know if he's looked at it in daylight. Anything to do with his father he's pushed aside, same as he emptied Denethor's quarters before making them his own."  
  
"You are the strangest of matchmakers, Peregrin Took," Eowyn said at last, and then was silent the rest of the day, considering what he said.  
  
-*-  
  
  
And in the night were dreams. _It is not only Boromir that is haunted by ghosts,_ she thought. Faramir came to Boromir, flesh and blood, when Boromir dreamed the Prophecy; Faramir came also to her dreams, recurring.  
  
Often she dreamt of the Pelennor, and he was as a ghost behind her, thin and pale, for his thoughts were toward her, not himself. Had he already died? Two more days, perhaps, he breathed. "Live," he begged her, but, in the dream, she cut not black cloth but into metal and that which was once flesh ... and the touch killed her, even as Gandalf killed her killer. She and the Witch King both dropped to the ground.  
  
And in this other war wherein she had died, the Ring was still destroyed and the threat of Sauron with it. With the peace, came burials. Boromir had Faramir's horn, and his hands were warm as her body was cold, and he lifted her head to put the strap around her neck and the horn under her arm and watched as she and the horn were buried together in Edoras, and he and the people wept.  
  
Songs of the love of Faramir and Eowyn rang hollow in her ears as she awoke to tears and shaking. "Let me live," she begged the morning, for she never knew the fear was nightmare until she was fully awake. "I do not long to die."  
  
Blinking the dream away, she slipped out of her bedroll, pulled on her tunic, and left the tent. With her knees drawn up, she sat on the sparse grass facing the sunrise, and watched it brighten. _He loved me, for being me._ She held to that. _It was for love of me and knowing I would grieve, he asked his brother to give comfort. I wish ..._ She stood abruptly, looking for a morning task to do. She went to the horses. They welcomed her with soft nickering as she combed their coats. _I wish my love could have been a strength to him, not pain. Then it could be likewise for me._  
  
== end chapter ==

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Halmin is non-canonical.


	28. Saruman

The party traveled quickly and without incident. Halmin and Bern were cheerful to be riding closer to home, and the Rohirrim knights – Edstan, Gram, Algar, and Felaf – were trading boasts.  They had not yet reached the ruins of Tharbad when, and the day was clear and bright. They saw ahead two figures on foot. They wondered who would be walking in this unlived country and looked back to see the figures had disappeared.

"Why would the banner of Eomund make any but brigands hide?" Eowyn asked, and ordered pursuit. Cornered in a stony hollow, they found them: Saruman and Grima. The sight of Eowyn in warrior's dress put Grima in a panic and that, to her, was grim satisfaction. He stammered that the ents had let them free and she replied that King Theoden still had claim in them.

"What, would you put me in prison?" Saruman asked in a silken voice. There was no town or guardhouse to be had here. Saruman carried no visible weapon, but speech he still had and he wooed them, speaking of how he was a friend, still, to Rohan, though he had been thrown out. He was deep into his spell when the last men leading the supply horses and the horse with Merry's coffin caught up to the others. The men held back, but Eowyn dismounted, drawing her sword. Her hatred of Grima, and other matters, was enough that she kept most of her anger as she demanded their surrender.

Then Grima was lying at her feet with a knife in his back, and Saruman's called this a gift to her, that she need no longer fear his lust. Still she stood, and he said her further to think how her state had been made high: she would be a King's sister and her brother King, with Theodred gone. She shivered then, knowing the spell to be taking hold, for the words called pride to her heart, not sorrow. "I would rather the Prince alive," she cried, striking blindly with her sword, even as Saruman tried to pull the spell closed.

"Eowyn!" Pippin cried, and then her guards came to their senses, shaking off the voice. She pulled back and swung again, aiming for his mouth that he could not utter a curse. She did not know if he were already dead: there was no blood. Rather, a smoke rose up to be blown away by a wind from the west. The wizard's body withered, as if it too would be blown away. As the men watched, Eowyn held her sword pointed into the smoke and pronounced sentence, that Saruman was killed by the authority of Theoden, the king, for the crime of betrayal, and his name cursed.

The men asked what had happened, for they wondered at what they saw, and they wondered that Eowyn had escaped the danger. "Saruman gave me Grima's death as a gift," she answered. "I am shamed to say I took it. But then he called Prince Theodred's death good fortune for my family, and that was, for my honor, too much, and my rage broke the spell." The men were uneasy as they buried the bodies in an unmarked grave. Eowyn helped with the work, though they would have prevented that, if they dared. _Do you think me cursed?_ She fumed. _I dared to challenge the Witch King, and this wizard I killed. Are you afraid of me?_ A sudden thought came to her that made her smile, for she knew it to be true. _Boromir will think the better of me for it._

-*-

They left the hollow to set up camp near by. "Why were those two on this road?" She asked Pippin and the two men from the north. As the others had made camp she had written letters to King Elessar and King Theoden, reporting the execution. It would be a while before those and other letters could be sent south.

"Were they going to the Shire?" Pippin wondered, his face worried. "We saw ... Merry and I both found barrels of Longbottom Leaf in the wreck of Isengard, and much of the food we found was crated or packed as if it had come from afar. I hope trouble hasn't come up this far."

"Dunlendings have some farms, but they are poor and I think were neglected when most who could fight joined Saruman's war on the Mark,"

"This Road goes up to Bree or the Shire," Bern said, "depending on which road is taken above Sarn Ford."

"We should go for the South Farthing," Pippin said, "then cut across to Buckland. There isn't a major road, but we don't have a wagon and there are fords, or ferries if we must. We'll have to use the Buckleberry Ferry when we reach the Brandywine."

"Whatever might have happened earlier, travelers haven't been on this road recently," Halmin added. "We'll stay alert."

-*-

They traveled as fast as they could, Halmin or Bern sometimes scouting ahead. When they reached the south borders of the Shire in late June the left the road and went north to the east of Longbottom. They were not met by any border guards -- hobbit or Dunedain -- though there was no overt sign of trouble. They were taking a path between fields of barley and hay when a farmer came out shaking a pitchfork from a barn hidden from the path by tall saplings. They had been trying to keep unseen. "You ruffians, you turn around," he cried. They saw someone in the barn trying to call him back. "You stole one harvest from me, you won't steal another!"

"We're not here to steal," Pippin called back. All their swords were sheathed and the Rohirrim's spears had been stowed on the packhorse. They could be grabbed quickly but didn't look obviously as weapons. Neither hobbit recognized the other. "We're just riding through. Has there been trouble here?"

"Where have you been? There's all sorts of nonsense coming out of Hobbiton, and I want none of it."

Halmin got off his horse, his hands empty and talked like a man from Bree. "Have there been big folk here stealing?"

"In the towns, a bunch of fool rules. A lot of taking to pay later and not paying. I stay out of the towns and I don't go to market."

"That's all wrong," Pippin exclamed. "Why weren't they stopped?"

"Who's going to stop big folk, are you spies?" He raised the pitchfork again and Hamlin backed up. "I hear tell the mayor tried, and he got locked up."

"The mayor!"

"I don't know. I haven't gone to look. I'm not going to leave my farm, I already got one harvest stolen. I don't want to be the next hobbit locked up. So you tell your boss man -- "

"We're not --"

"Then if you see any ruffians, you tell 'em. Get off my farm!"

Hamlin mounted again and they hurried on. After they forded the next stream they halted for a quick conference. "Saruman must have people here."

"Dunlendings," Edstan replied. "We need to find news in, ef, Hythton?"

"Hobbiton," Bern corrected.

"We have to get Merry home before rumors get there," Pippin insisted, voice unsteady. "The farmer said spies are about. His family must be worried sick."

"And yours," Eowyn added. She looked at Edstan. "Do we risk splitting?"

After a short discussion the decision was "yes". Halmin would go with Edstan and Algar, asking hobbits near Hobbiton and the route to there that Halmin knew of whose homes were on outer edges, not close to neighbors. Bern, Felaf, Gram, and the pack horses would go with Eowyn and Pippin. Halmin's group would rejoin or send word in two days or sooner. Halmin reminded the Rohirrim of what he had said before: "Do not crowd the small folk, we are giants to them. You dress large, with weapons and bold colors. If you are offered food, apologize for your large portion. But if there has been mischief here, our strong arms can help mend or defend."

=== end chapter ===

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names Bern, Edstan, Gram, Algar, and Felaf are non-canonical.


	29. Tears in Buckland

Eowyn, ordered off the property, used a low stone wall as a seat to stay out of the way and there Esmeralda, having lifted the coffin lid and made herself see and finally believe, came to her to apologize for her anger and rudeness. Eowyn nodded her head and replied quietly, "It is a comfort of a kind to find a place so untouched by war that a single death could cause such unbelief."

"Did many of your people die?"

"Yes." Esmeralda shuddered, pulling her shawl tighter across her back. Eowyn looked away, to the night-dark trees on the hill before her and her eyes slowly filled with tears. "Our Prince was killed by the order of one we called 'friend'. Our King is now childless and my brother shall be king after, though he was not raised to be. Prince Theodred was brave and strong and I knew him well, though the poisons of Grima had kept Theoden estranged from his son. Theodred sent his love for his father to him through me, hoping that I might turn his ear away from Grima to listen. But Theodred was dead before Theoden was healed. He died at the first Battle of the Fords of Isen and his body was buried where he died and the second battle was on the same land and it was many days before we were reassured the orcs had been turned aside from the eyot by his spirit and the ground undisturbed. Of all the knights killed in those battles I had shared a cup with all but four at banquet in happier days, and had trained with many of them. Though many men survived the wars many of the best now are buried and our halls have only the memory of the voices of those brave warriors who should have survived to celebrate this peace, Meriadoc not the least. He wears the livery of the House of Eorl and we mourn him as one of our own." She turned back to Esmeralda to see she also wept, and did not seem to have understood or even heard most of she had said. "Lady, forgive me. I should not have spoken so. Your grief is new and I have had months to mourn my dead."

Eowyn guided her back to the door, where she found Saradoc, her husband. Pippin had managed to stay with the coffin, and the men were with the horses. Saradoc started to invite everyone in, then blinked, looking at her height. Eowyn smiled apologetically and said she would be careful. Then she asked if there was a safe space on his lawn her men could put up their tents. Other people from the smial showed them a place where the horses could be kept near by, then brought out some groundcloths and cushions to make sleeping more comfortable, and promised food would be ready soon.

-*-

Eowyn felt like a giantess. She had thought of Merry and Pippin as grown children: in years they were older than her and spoke that way, but she had been able to lift both of them easily, at different times, to sit on her horse before she put foot in stirrup and pulled herself up. They were tall compared to Merry's clan. She had been surprised at the large stone building of Mundberg, but larger was easier for her to move within than smaller.

Pippin helped her navigate to where they had placed the coffin. She had to stoop to get through the door and there were beams across the ceiling in the entrance corridor she had to duck under. She was sure there were places in this cave of a house where she would not be able to enter without breaking things, or not enter at all, and would have needed help to back out. The parlor had benches and chairs she didn't dare sit on. Someone pushed over a storage chest with a flat top and she sat carefully. Once she was seated, the hobbits moved closer and more entered the room. There were a lot of introductions and questions.

Pippin, upset and guilty, tried to push the questions away from himself and Merry, and tried to find out more about the big men Saruman had sent north and what the farmer had meant by the harvest being stolen. What he learned seemed worrying, but not of imminent danger for Buckland.

"These ruffians causing trouble across the river, are they from your land?" one of the older hobbits asked.

"No, but they live north of our borders. The traitor wizard that had ordered the death of my Prince has been doing mischief here also. He won't send more Dunlendings here, his fortress is destroyed and he is dead."

"Did he order Meriodoc's death, too?"

"No, Meriadoc was killed in the battle I fought in, when orcs from Mordor were attacking Mundberg."

It took a while for people to notice that both Pippin and Merry were taller than they should be; explaining the effect of Ent draughts was only a minor digression; other questions seemed more important. Eowyn explained that the other three members of her party had gone toward Hobbiton to learn more of what Dundlendings had been doing and she asked advice on how Rohirrim could best help. "I am sorry our neighbors did such harm to people here. We are ready to help make some of it right."

Eventually, everyone was talked out and went to their rooms or tents to sleep. Messengers would be sent out in the early morning to near neighbors that there would be a wake at midday and burial in the evening. In the context of uncertianty, it would also be an invitation to come together to speak of those troubles and make plans.

-*-

Midway through the wake Rosie Cotton arrived. She snuck in and no one saw. She had heard rumors, took two of her father's ponies and brought Gaffer with her. She looked into the coffin. "Merry, Merry, oh no."

Eowyn had been speaking to someone else, but turned at the cry. Rosie saw she wore a tabard with the same symbol as Merry wore. "Who are you?" she said loudly. "Do you have more coffins?" She didn't see or feel Pippin come take her arm, her eyes filled with the giantess. "Where's my Sam, what have you done to him?"

Eowyn bowed. "He is well, though he is not with me, let your heart be at ease."

"It's true," Pippin said in assurance.

"He was near death but was brought back, and Frodo, too." She bowed again. "Rosie Cotton, fair lady, know your prayers for your lord were answered. Honor to you."

"My 'lord'! Samwise Gamgee is no lord, but a plain hobbit and I love him and will you speak sense!"

To the consternation of all, Eowyn laughed as she quickly but carefully sat before Rosie to better speak. "Oh, lady, he found a match in you! Whether or no, he is a lord. There is a High King now, and he says thus. May the Lady bless and keep all halflings and guard them! You are a marvel! I thought the four in the company were unusual, but I see they were not. Merry, you -- Rosie, Gaffer -- if it came to it, you would do the same. With a 'little schooling', as Lord Pippin here says, to show the cause dire and deadly, you would put aside your comfort and die or make the hard choice to keep hearth and family free, and would in no way be bribed or fooled by riches or false friends. But it was Sam that was there, and he is embarrassed of all the fuss made of him, but I think he would take praise from you. And he deserves it."

"I don't understand," said Rosie

"What job is this my boy had to do?" demanded Gaffer. "Why did he have to leave us all worried, and where is he now? Why couldn't you Big Men do your own business and not take hobbits Outside to bring them back dead in coffins?"

"Because we big and strong men could not do what hobbits could do. Men had tried and failed; they were corrupted where Sam was not. I must tell the tale again."

It was eventually sorted out. Gaffer, too, was amazed. Eowyn noticed Pippin slipping away, and knew why he had left. She told the story in greater detail this time because speaking of Sam meant speaking of the ring. Pippin soon reappeared. She alternated between what Merry and Pippin found in Rohan and Gondor and what Sam and Frodo did, crossing with their companions to the dark lands. Her voice was thick when she first spoke of Faramir. "My love," she called him. And there were tears from those who listened, for they could tell from the way she said the name that his story was unhappy. "We had pledged ourselves to each other, but the war tore us apart: him to his duty, me to mine. Faramir and the dwarf Gimli took Sam and Frodo to Mordor."

"Mordor!"

"A desolate and dangerous land. There were many hardships. Though they had too little food and they were dying of thirst, they did not turn back. But the bridge to the plain was guarded, and Faramir and Gimli died making distraction -- "

There were soft cries from the listeners. Esmeralda and others came forward for to give her comfort. Eowyn pushed her voice through to continue. "So Frodo and Sam entered into the Dark Land." She took a deep breath and smiled at Rosie and Gaffer. "Sam would not want me saying this but Frodo says it to everyone who will listen. At the end, Frodo succumbed. He had carried the ring for months with the intention to destroy it, and the ring -- all that time -- made itself dear to him and turned his heart. He tried to claim it. So the Dark Lord Sauron knew and knew his peril and he sent his wraiths to claim the ring and Frodo could not have prevented it, and that would have meant all of us dead, or soon to be.

"But Sam was there." Rosie stifled a cry from the horror of it. She turned and buried her head on Gaffer's shoulder, yet he continued to stare, wide-eyed. "He tricked Frodo to get the ring and threw it in the fires, and Frodo's madness was at that moment cured. Sam would have done worse, he said, and I believe it, if Frodo had not let himself and the ring be tricked. He would have pushed them both over the edge to die. Yes, Sam would have killed his master and himself. 'It's not Frodo's fault', he keeps saying. 'We already expected to die.' But there wasn't else to do. The hard choice. He told himself, no one would know. The task being done, Elrond would think Frodo had achieved it and Frodo would be grieved and honored. Elrond would have come here to tell you, and that's how Sam would have it. He didn't think himself a hero, and still doesn't." Rosie finally turned around again. Eowyn met her eyes for a short silence, then continued. "Sam and Frodo thought they would die, for the mountain and the land were tearing themselves apart, but Frodo got them where the Eagles could find them, and so they were rescued."

"They couldn't save your Faramir?" Rosie asked quietly.

"He was already killed. The Eagles could not come in until Sauron was thrown down." She then explained how Sauron's armies were in confusion and the battle at the gate was won, and how Thorongil was made king.

Some who listened wanted to ask more questions, but she bad them ask later, for she had more to say in private to Sam's family. Rosie and Gaffer stepped closer, and also Pippin. Eowyn took her hands. "He has you in his heart, lady, and wishes he could be here with you."

"When is he coming back?"

"A while yet, I'm sorry. He wasn't unhurt, Lady. His hand was badly burned. It is cared for and gives him no pain but he can not move the fingers much and this frustrates him. When I left, there was not much Frodo would let him do on his own. Which annoys him, I think you can imagine."

Behind them Gaffer started in surprise, then crossed his arms tight, muttering. Rosie only looked confused. "It should be me helping him, not Master Frodo."

"He doesn't like the 'fuss' and he doesn't want help," Pippin said. "He's learning tricks and becoming clever with his left hand. He would rather be here, but the healers are still working to soften his scar. I'm glad you declared your love, he has also said to all that he loves you. Sam is Sam and not sure of himself, and Merry kept secret what you told him." Pippin gave her the letter he held. "He wrote this to you."

She looked at the paper and wept again. "Sam wrote this?"

"He wrote some of it," Pippin explained. "Frodo wrote the rest, what Sam told him to write."

"I can't read," she sniffed. "I know Frodo taught him letters when he was young, but I didn't learn."

"I'll read it to you after Merry's buried."

-*-

The family cemetery was near by. For a funeral, it seemed too hurried and unsettled, the rumor and uncertainty made it difficult to find solace. Pippin hoped something more could be done when Frodo and Sam got back.

Others went to eat in the main hall, but Rosie brought the letter to Pippin and they found an empty room with good light. _I hope Pippin gives this to you,_ the letter began. _I hope I was right you were looking, Pippin won't give this to you if I'm wrong and you weren't._ Then the words moved into embarrassed apology, for that would mean wishing her to be worried about him. Frodo would have wanted to polish the words a bit, Pippin figured, but then Sam would have been reading what Frodo wrote for him and insisted on no 'prettying.'

"I was looking, Pippin," Rosie said. "I told Merry."

"I know."

"Merry told you, and he didn't tell my Sam!"

"You told Merry not to tell Sam."

"Oh, oh. That was before the Troubles. When it got dark he should have said. My poor Sam went to Morder and he didn't know I loved him!" There was a long time weeping before Pippin could continue, and she wished again that Sam was home, for she missed him terribly.

Later, the report from Hamlin arrived. The messenger was a third cousin from Tookland who wanted Pippin to come home and make account for himself. So while Eowyn discussed Halmin's news with Bern, Saradoc, and many others in council, Pippin was negotiation with Finbras. Tom Cotton soon arrived looking for his daughter and he joined the council deliberations.

-*-

Of course, Eowyn was told she could stay in Buckland and some of her party would have preferred that. Eowyn wanted to take the uproar away from Merry's parents that they might be better able to look for peace after the sad ending of their long worry. She and the men took down the tents and crossed back into the Shire proper, moving slowly toward the center, gathering rumors as they went.

The news got around, faster than the horsemen with sword and spear. The ruffians who had stole the last harvest and were getting ready to steal the next knew what the horsemen could do. The horsemen carried their spears pointed upright and spoke quietly. Often they took separate routes, the better to be seen, though Eowyn always had an escort. The local headman sat before Eowyn or a knight on their horse or rode ahead on his pony. The headman asked the questions, making new lists. Not of rules but of damage to set right. The ruffians had grabbed and kept their power by careful use of coin and intimidation, threatening more to come, that their big man would either reward or punish. And there had been some coin and wagons aplenty that had come up from the south after the last harvest to cart it all away before people had compared notes and realized it was taken outside the borders, not to local markets. A few ruffians tried to intimidate to keep their power, as that had worked before, but soon turned and ran when a spear started to move down. Later there were a few reports of ruffian gangs coming together; after yelling and grumbling they stuffed their packs with what they could carry and left before the horsemen got there. A few had tried to leave with wagons of loot, but stopped and forced to leave wagons and packs behind. The stragglers who tried to hide and make a living of thieving would soon be tracked down and shown the borders. The few hobbits that had willingly helped in the attempted "new way of things" quickly changed their tune.

Lotho, who had invited them in, so he thought, called himself a victim. (Saruman's spies had looked for a well-placed hobbit who could be corrupted, and they found him in Lotho, who fell easily to their flattery.) The machines the big men built hadn't worked they way they promised, just wasted all his money. They had bossed him not the other way around. They took all his treasure away when they abandoned him. What he had left of worth the ruffians couldn't steal he was forced to sell to pay for damages. When he slunk away from Hobbiton, some said they saw his mother Lobelia hinting him with her umbrella. She made it clear that it was Lotho who was to blame, not her. She even took care to hunt out and have repaid first the damage done to hobbit families that could least afford their losses, so people would call her change of heart true.

Straight away, and not waiting for horsemen, members of Mayor Whitfoot's family got on ponies, gathered others when they got close to the lockholds, and released the mayor and the others that had been held there. A few in every family had wanted to rise up earlier but had been held back by the others. Once it was clear that the big men's Big Man was killed and no more troops or wagons would be coming up the road they could not be held back.

Taking their tours of the countryside Eowyn and the knights found much in the Shire to admire and the hobbits returned the friendship, especially as they all were careful to wait to be asked and never make demands of their hosts, though Felaf – who spoke Westron least well of all of them – would never hesitate to look longingly when there was a wiff of new-made pie in the air. He was also quick to use his muscles if there was a fast repair that could be done. _There is much metal used here,_ he mused, eating a mince pie with a serving fork _. There was a metal hinge on that storage box, where I have a leather hinge at home._ In the Mark, metal is mostly saved for war gear, knives, nails and needles. Only the richest halls had metal pots instead of pottery. _Maybe hobbits would trade leather for metal? It might be less dear than what the smiths in Mundberg demand._ The metal came from dwarves, he was told. The used metal to pay for pipe-weed.

Before the end of June Gram was sent south with a batch of letters. Pippin had gone home for the first course of lectures, though he escaped intermittantly to rejoin Eowyn's tour. She and the other three knights would head back south in mid July. She was at a farm on the outskirts of Bywater. They had helped put a barn back in order and then there was a general party, with musicians playing dance music with great enthusiasm. After clapping through several pieces, Eowyn decided to stand up and dance. It was a simple four-beat rhythm that matched a dance from Rohan. Hamlin jumped up also and they found a spot on the edge where they wouldn't crowd the small folk, his steps coming from his people in the Angle.

She had sent a message to Pippin and asked him for a final consultation she left. When he arrived Halmin would be going back to his wife and grandfather who would be very happy that he had returned home alive; not all of the Grey Company would.

== end chapter ==

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Finbras is non-canonical.


	30. The City in Gold Sunlight

There had been a council, this time more lords than warriors. They were heads of households, estates, ports. Lords who did not live in the city or who had evacuated and had not fought on the Pelennor or at the Gate. The mood had been different from the warrior councils. Some had tried to flatter the king. Worse, some had stared at the steward, or had looked too often first at one and then the other.

"Are you well?" Aragorn asked.

"It is tiresome to deal with people who would rather flatter than work. We'll deal with them."

"You answer for today. What of the future?"

The servants had withdrawn until rung for, and would not hear this conversation. His king wanted to know more of his mind. "Or the past?" Boromir smiled grimly. "Father and I argued. I was his favorite son. Arrogant. I stood up to him where others would not ... or were not allowed. At the end, if we disagreed, I had to yield, but I told myself 'When I rule I will have my way.'

"When I was no longer a child and I understood Mordor, I feared for the future. And when father was wrong I told him, and when I needed to, I made him change his mind. Mordor would be the end of us, it seemed. What I would do, I must do, be it my father's will or no, for he would be last to rule and Sauron would take my inheritance."

He smiled at his error. "Faramir could ever See clearer than I." He shrugged, and returned to Aragorn's question. "Then the war, and the victory, and the return of the king." He bowed. "Now I serve the king, as I served my father, but with better grace, I hope, for better reason."

"Though you will still tell me if I am wrong."

Boromir smiled back at him. "We will discuss if our opinions differ."

Aragorn considered what he had said previously, then asked a question he had been pondering. "You have not asked. Early in my journey here, I anticipated Denethor would ask me. Did you wonder why Thorongil came here and made no claim, that my fathers made no claim?"

Boromir bowed again and kept his council. "It is past time for you to ask that, my king." Yet he was curious. "Did my brother ask?"

"Not directly. But in his foresight – he believed King and Victory were written together. He did not have the option to chose one without the other."

"There are many who say the crown is your right. Many who say you took what you earned."

"Took what was given."

"It was not ours to 'give' or 'keep'."

"Circles."

"I am content in my city's joy."

-*-

Sam preferred walking around and exploring because he didn't need his hands to look and Frodo and he could have friendly conversations with each other or the city folk without Sam getting flustered at Frodo trying to help. He also didn't like extravagant praise, but folk learned quickly that the way they could get a story the could brag about later they had to not make a fuss until he was out of earshot. Still, occasionally Sam would be about on his own. He was sitting at a table near the main kitchen by the tower. Boromir approached with a mug of ale and sat next to him. Sam looked sideways at him.

Boromir said, "No, Sam, I didn't come to tease you. I don't like being stared at either."

Sam huffed and nodded. "I don't like it, sir." He had finished the stew. There was still a slice of pie. He picked up his fork. He put it back down again. "Lady Eowyn left too soon."

"She did?" Boromir was startled by the sudden change of topic.

"I can't say 'I'm sorry' to King Theoden, and I don't think her brother would want to talk about it. What I told her made her cry and I want to say sorry."

"You did apologize, Sam. She knows you didn't mean to hurt her."

"Didn't apologize, I made it worse."

Boromir sighed, but he also gave the hobbit a hug. "Dear Sam, none of us wanted Faramir to die. It couldn't be helped." Sam didn't look convinced. "If you don't want that pie can I have it?"

-*-

Frodo was walking through the third circle, enjoying the cheerful people going about their business, but he had to admit he was upset. Sam had said he didn't want his "hovering." Frodo had left to let Sam eat. He wasn't hungry. He was feeling sorry for himself, maybe. He was feeling the hole inside him that his treasure had left when Sam tore it away. He walked with those dark thoughts until he heard someone who called his name and was hailing him from a bench by a fountain. "Hullo, Gandalf."

"The light is golden today, yet you are frowning."

"I failed and I'm wrong," Frodo answered glumly. "I would pick it up again if I knew where to go to find it."

"No Frodo, you're a better hobbit than that." Frodo shook his head. "Where's Sam?"

Frodo kicked at the paving stone, then sat on the bench. "He didn't want me, I was crowding him. He told me 'go away'."

"Frodo," Gandalf said. His voice made him look. "Did Bilbo tell you? He sent you letters from Rivendell, I don't think he would have put this in a letter. Bilbo had to be tricked also. Did he tell you that?"

His gaze turned thoughtful. "No, he didn't."

"That fool fuss of a party, I only agreed because he was to leave the ring for you." Frodo winced. Gandalf deliberately kept using the word. "Bilbo was to leave the ring in an envelope on your mantelpiece, but he was going out the door with the envelope in his pocket. He got angry when I mentioned that. I was rude to him until he pulled out the envelope with the ring in it to put it where it belonged, though he thought it belonged in his pocket, then it fell out of his hand onto the floor, and then I was rude again when I snatched it by a corner and put it on the mantel before he could pick it up again and put it back in his pocket. So that's how it came to you. Being a sensible hobbit he left straight away, before you were able to get back home. I think that was a good thing. I fear there might have been a fight if he saw you take possession of it."

"Oh." A lot of the stiffness went out of his back.

Gandalf wisely left it at that, letting Frodo think on what he had been told. Gandalf fixed him a pipe and they shared a smoke in silence.

-*-

As Aragorn worked out how his rule would be in Gondor, there was much to consider. It seemed to him that Hurin should have looked overtaxed. He and Boromir had made many decisions and suggestions that Hurin and others of the court were to carry through, which they did with good grace. Since almost all before was about defense against Mordor, much restructuring was being made.

"I'm sorry I gave you so little support for my first ceremony," he told him.

It took Hurin a while to realize what he meant. "The crowning? No lord, it couldn't have been made better in any way," he said happily. "Everyone in the city still talks of it, and will repeat the tale to anyone who enters the gate, and they will tell their grandchildren as well!"

Aragorn smiled, though his thoughts turned wistfully north.

-*-

Usually when Boromir called on Theoden there was someone else in attendance. It had been Eowyn and often Pippin. Since they, Eomer, and most of the other Rohirrim left it was one of the knights who stayed or another visitor. Today was one of the occasional days he was alone. "King Theoden – " he began, but stopped when Theoden raised his hand.

"I would have gladly put Eowyn's hand in the hand of your brother. I know you want her." He looked away. "Many have wanted her."

Boromir straightened, waiting for explanation. It was hard to suddenly feel threat from an ally.

At length Theoden continued, "Your intention troubles me. No, she has said no word to me of it. She did not need to."

"If she asks you?"

Theoden stared a long time. "If she asks me, I will say no." He waited for Boromir to challenge before he finished his answer. "If she tells me 'I will wed,' then I will give my blessing. There can be no doubt."

"I agree, lord," Boromir carefully replied.

"Please do not think me cruel. I know you, I knew your father. You are not wrong to rue how fate has treated your family, yet this leaves you unsettled. I wish my sister-daughter happiness, even if where she hoped to find it is impossible. Can you offer her this? You stand in the way of any other she might have chosen."

"The words I have said were from my heart, and they cannot be unsaid."

Theoden nodded.

-*-

The city had not yet spoke much of queens. It was known that the banner than hung in the thrown room, the banner that gave awe hope or fear when it was shown in battle on the Pelennor and at the Gate, was not only magical but had been made by the hand of his Lady, yet Elessar would not speak of her.

Then days after the king brought the living image of that tree down from Mount Mindolluin, on Midsummer did their queen arrive from the north accompanied by many of the fair folk and there was great joy and celebration.

Aragorn's joy was the greatest. What Boromir had thought before was happiness was but true concern and determination to do right. He pushed back to his foggy memories to the coronation, and realized Denethor had been wrong. It was not ambition that brought Thorongil from the north, it was this love. He would have fought to defend against Sauron regardless, but this love was what gave him strength. Boromir found comfort in that.

When the company came closer Boromir could see that these were not the king's northern Dunedain kin, but elves, and was amazed. His human father had died when he was young. Elrond, then, must have been his foster father.

-*-

After the wedding banquet Sam stood near the wall to watch dancers in the center. He turned to see Queen Galadriel sitting on the floor before him, her legs crossed under the skirts of her gown that they were eye-to-eye. Her gaze was deep and hollow.

Not knowing what to say he stammered, "Your gift, Lady, I'm – I'm sorry." The small box that was left behind in his pack to burn at Mount Doom. "I lost it."

"I brought you another," she said in a flat voice. "Gardener, a tale has come to me of a gift I gave to another."

_Swift and sure, fingers had made the braid._ "Yes, Lady. Gimli thought of you, and brought you with him when he went to die. The golden light, his warrior's cry turned all eyes away from us as we ran over the bridge toward the mountain."

"I heard that cry." Her eyes closed and her head bowed. "I knew the Eagles would come too late to save him."

"They came soon enough for Mr. Frodo and I, Lady. Thank you."

-*-

In the morning, Queen Arwen and those who had traveled with her to the city gathered, as well as Gandalf, the hobbits, and a few other dignitaries who had not arrived by the time of the first coronation. The King and Lord Boromir led them into the House of the Stewards and they gathered at the front of the grey room. Denethor lay there now, back in the shadows, on his stone bed. He looked as if he were sleeping. Soon his stone coffin would be finished for him to lie within, to match the coffins on the left, the former stewards.

To the right were four empty beds. Boromir had caused the fifth empty bed, which had been at the end of the row, to be moved to the front of the room. On this bed had been laid the tokens of the dead from the fellowship. Merry's body had been removed, being taken to his family in the shire. His shield, which had been found several days later on the battlefield, had been left behind, and the other three tokens were in part resting upon it, so all were joined. At the top was Faramir's horn, below were the broken bow and axe.

Galadriel laid her hand where the bow and haft crossed. "These two friends should not be separated, though they died apart. Long has the enmity stood between our peoples. Yet, between them was it healed." And she wrote fair messages to King Thranduil and Gloin asking that as Legolas' burial place in Rohan was known that the axe and bow could together be sent to Gloin and together buried or displayed. Thranduil sent agreement, but Gloin said "I ache for my son and would have the axe near me; but it seems to me he is resting in great honor and it would not be to my honor to disturb his peace."

Thus the tokens remained in the stewards' house, and many people, in small groups, would afterwards come to the tomb to give honor to memories of those four of the Fellowship of the Ring who died in the fulfillment of the quest. Later that year Gloin visited with a carver and had a stone portrait made of the tokens, and this he displayed in his home.

-*-

The next day, Frodo went to see the queen, asking after Bilbo. "I know he and Strider are great friends. I am surprised he did not come with you to see the wedding."

She explained he had become very old with the destruction of the ring. "He is still friend to Aragorn, and he did wish to come, but I am glad he did not try. He is a dear friend to me as well. He was a great support to me as we waited and worried. He is very proud of you and Sam."

"When we go back north, we will go with Elrond so we can see Bilbo before we return to the Shire."

"Please know you both have our greatest thanks. My lord tells me he has tried many times to thank Sam, and he still blushes. I hope you can help us find him a suitable gift.

"I think he will have his own wedding soon, and would accept a fair gift for his wife."

-*-

Boromir was having breakfast outside that servants had brought to him. The day was clear and bright, and Aragorn saw him there when he looked out the window. "He is thinking on Eowyn," he said to Arwen. Boromir's gaze was towards the Houses of Healing where Eowyn's quarters had been.

"She is Faramir's!" she objected.

"Leave it, I beg you. This possibility is fragile."

She stared. "You also would betray him?"

"Love, they are not elf. How should she wait for Faramir? He will not be reborn. Boromir has the stronger bond to his brother. If you want them reunited, it will be at his side. I would have Boromir's line continue, and it will be by Eowyn, or not at all."

She did not want to consider it, though she had not yet met the White Lady of Rohan. "They are not suited."

"It may not be the best of marriages," he conceded. "It would be better for both than solitude. They both grieve. They both are of a nature not to seek comfort, but they may of each other." She looked away. He took her hands and waited until her eyes sought his, then he spoke softly. "And had the wolf killed me that winter of my twenty-second year, would you have laid down to die, or wept for what you did not know you had lost, and gone West with your father?"

She would not lie so she said no word.

"My love, I am glad the wolf did not kill me."

On that, she could agree.

-*-

Soon after the wedding, Aragorn asked Elrond to look at Sam's hand. Gandalf and he had done as much as they could and hoped Elrond could further ease the scaring.

"I cannot heal this completely," he told Sam. "I'm glad you are gardener, not a painter. The green things won't mind." Sam smiled, but Frodo looked guilty. "Your hurt is surface only. You have no wound to your heart."

He looked then at Frodo, and asked him to come close, and asked to look at his shoulder where the Morgul-knife had cut him. The wound seemed healed, or as healed as it would be. He was wounded worse guilt. Elrond tried to ease that pain. "You did well, Frodo, to resist as long as you did, and to let Sam trick you. If Sam has forgiven you, you should accept that."

Frodo ducked his head, avoiding Elrond's blessing. But he raised his head again, with a glance at Sam before he looked back to Elrond who did not speak of what he saw. _Sam will be your healing. As Sam thrives, so will you find comfort in that, forgetting your loss._ "Be well, Frodo. Find your peace and let it heal you."

"I have life," he said, grief in his voice. "It seems so unfair. Could not the others who died have been rescued?"

"Many who die deserve life. As you were spared, do what you can, for their honor."

-*-

Arwen spoke to Boromir of his brother, for she had spoke to him in Rivendell.

Boromir saw that she felt guilty in her happiness, that Faramir was not here to share. "Lady, you have seen this city. More people return to fill it's houses every day. It has changed much since my brother left, looking for a way she might be saved.

"And she has been saved. The shadow no longer assails us. The summer is bountiful. Planting was late in many places but crops are growing fast, almost as if they, too, feel the joy. He achieved what he set out to do, Lady. Our people, whom we were to rule, those we lived to serve, they lived in fear. Denethor saw the fear, saw them leave, called them weak and faithless. They would not love him and he did not love them. He saw only death. My brother and I did love them, and we were in despair. We fought. All of us who fought in her defense knew what the price might be, and all of us were willing to pay. All that could were saved."

-*-

On an evening when the stars came out after a day of gentle rain, Boromir sought out Elrond who was on at the first circle wall, looking up at those stars. "My brother went north to find you, and came back haunted and changed."

"I am sorry he died."

"I met him briefly before he went into Mordor; he had little time to speak of what he found in your house."

"He asked honest questions to which I gave hard answers, and he did not shirk."

"In what way 'hard'?"

"I beg your understanding in this, for I would not have the words unsaid. They were bitter, with good reason. I had seen much sorrow and death made to be of little worth because of one man's fall. With our position made so weak, triumph seemed impossible, yet we durst not fail. I doubted my strength to still fight on after another defeat, though I would have. To my death, surely. So he found me, and I did not hide my fear."

"He seemed to have hope for me, for my city, but put it aside for himself."

"Aragorn was on that path when Faramir claimed the burden. He knew the cost. His gift to you, to your city, to Gondor, Rohan, Aragorn and my daughter. I have no words. Only Aragorn could have summoned the ghosts to save Pelargir, to break the seige here, and much else." Boromir easily filled in the defeats Elrond alluded to that would have happened: _The Haradrim would have swept across south Gondor, Eomer perhaps overwhelmed on the Pelennor. With the first circle impossible to hold, the siege of the city might have retreated to a last man killed in the upper tower before Sam and Frodo reached the mountain._ "Some few might have escaped out your mountain escapes. Could Denethor have abandoned Minas Tirith?"

Boromir shook his head.

"Could you have abandoned him? Hard the victory of Sauron's death would have been for kingdoms to fall and must rebuild themselves with new names and new leaders. It would have been a pair of generations of men, or three, I think, before Sauron's allies and orc tribes be diminished enough to be pushed aside."

_That is an elf's view of the generations of men_ , Boromir thought, missing Eowyn again. _I would have given father my love, and let his guard our retreat as I led our remnant out, perhaps with Faramir with me. Father would have chosen it thus._ The ache for his family was crushing. _No, no. I prefer my city living, unbroken._ "Then I thank you, and I thank you on his behalf, for your wise council and your long battle, now ended. It seems the lives of all were marked for death, but now our path is safer."

Elrond went still, and looked at him long. "Few are the men that would say 'Thank you' to an elf."

_Father cursed you. I do not agree._ "I was desperate, so were you. Neither of us would retreat, though you could have. You stayed until your job was done." _In your foster son you made a weapon that broke the vice that was killing us, though you lost your daughter to do this._ He bowed again, and Elrond returned the gesture.

-*-

Aragorn sat next to Arwen on the dais where the head table had been set. Food and drink in plenty had been brought to all who dined in the hall. He thought back, only a year before, that the days had been strain and fear, for he could feel the war building and did not know how he could answer that threat.

"Was this what you saw?" he asked. "Your hope meant I could hope."

"I saw this, though I did not see the deaths." A small shadow fell on her face, and then was gone. She took his hand. "This ... is so much more than what I saw." He smiled at her caress. "Beloved, I have such joy. This is home, these are my people. This joy that we have, we shall see they also have joy, all the days that are given us."

== end chapter ==


	31. Epilog

Boromir stood on the walls of Minas Tirith. Below he could see many people engaged in the work of repairing the hurts that had been done to homes and halls, and making everything more beautiful. They sang as they worked, and there were children also who helped where they could, but mostly played without fear. He then looked north, calculating how many days it might be before the King returned from Rohan. It would be a few weeks to reach Edoras, and faster to return. He did not think Theoden would again leave his home.

He thought more now on the immediate tasks of rebuilding rather than on the larger works to be done in the future. He hoped to have good progress on the gate before Elessar returned. New doors were being built, and within the crossbar, to bar the way for any who would dare enter by force, he would place his father's sword. Above him the flag of the stewards flew for Boromir had command in the King's absence, and the banner of the tree and crown made by the Queen's hand hung in the throne room. The shadow of Sauron had passed and now was the time of peace.  
  
=== end ===


	32. Afterword (Plot Spoilers)

Way back in my college years, "what-if Faramir and Boromir traded places?" was an obvious question. I also observed that in the "Return of the King" Aragorn filled a power vacuum rather than there being a real transfer of power. I wanted to examine a pair of crucial decision points: when the Fellowship divided and the King's return. At these points in LotR the characters reacted to circumstances rather than making a considered choice.  
  
In the first version of this story I thought I had found a clever way to get Faramir out of harm's way and back to Minas Tirith. Denethor died at the Gate and Boromir on the Pelennor soon after. When I picked up the story again ten years later I realized my cleverness wasn't. Faramir threw a fit saying he would do no such thing and insisted on staying with Frodo and Sam, so he died. He also rebelled that I would kill Boromir.   
  
After that, Aragorn lectured me up, down, and sideways that I could think he would send Frodo and Sam to Mordor with only one helper, pointed to the relevant passage in "The Breaking of the Fellowship", and Gimli joined the party going East and also died.  
  
It would have been unbalanced if only two of five non-hobbit Fellowship members survived, but all four hobbits did ... and Merry died. Sorry.   
  
I thought to make one "small" change and come sideways to a near-familiar conclusion, with Legolas dead but Gimli continuing the Friendship. The characters had other ideas.

Thank you for reading.  
  
\--Julie (julifolo at yahoo dot com) 

PS: To those of you who accumulate and craft AUs, I hope the speculations of this story are appreciated and useful. Any feedback and further speculation heartily accepted, as well as typo catches.


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